The Scarlet Window
by kookith
Summary: AU. NxN, slight MxM. When Arnold Neumann, along with his childhood friend Murrue, had accepted Mwu's invitation to go with him to visit his three cousins in Dominion Hall, he hadn't expected that they would be unwelcomed guests. But there was a reason why the three girls were so secretive, and he would find out soon enough…
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Her earliest memories were of her Papa and Mama, together with her, living in a small, old house on the outskirts of town. The street they lived on was lined with similar, unseemly houses; crowded enough to feel lost if one did not pay attention, but sparse enough to not feel suffocated. When the sun shone, the place was bright and colourful, but when it rained, it was cold and grey, the darkest place she had ever known. The people around had faces so common that have all blurred into one odd and vague impression, but she remembers that they were nice and friendly; like the plump lady next door who always smelled of honey and fresh bread, whose door she would knock on to ask for sugar to bring back to Mama, or the boy living down the street, slightly older than her, who would sometimes come for her in the afternoon and take her outside to play with his friends.

Every day Papa would leave at the break of dawn, and would not return till after dusk fell; because of Papa's hard work they had this lovely place called home, which Mama would always remind her, and so every time Papa came home she would run to the door to meet him, and he would swoop her up into his strong arms so she could give him a hug as a thank you for that day's hard work. Mama would always be following close behind, with the brightest smile on her face. Papa would then give them each a kiss on the cheek; always Mama first, then her turn, and after that he would carry her in one arm and his other hand holding Mama's as they made their way to the small, crammed kitchen for dinner.

They would talk about their day, things they had seen, people they met, and everything else that came to mind. They were always happy, and although she did not have nice clothes to wear, or the fancy candies she saw in the stores, she did not mind, because having Mama and Papa was enough for her. But sometimes, she wondered if she was enough for Mama and Papa to be happy; times when she heard Mama whispering quietly to Papa, her beautiful features warped with worry and Papa's handsome face strained like hers. Mama would run her hand tenderly through his smooth, dark hair, and he would catch hold of her hand to hold it against his face, telling her not to worry, that those people would not find them; that even if they did find them, there was nothing they could do anymore. On those nights Papa would come to her bedside, thinking she was asleep when she was only pretending to be, and he would stroke lightly on her long hair—soft and dark like his—and call her his sweet, darling girl. She would start to fall asleep, his voice her lullaby as she drifted off into her land of dreams. Little did she know then that soon enough, in her dreams was the only place she would ever see her dearest Papa again.

It came to them one grey, summer afternoon, with that knock on the door—too late to be the postman, who very seldom came anyway, but too early to be Papa. Mama went to the door, and out of curiosity she got up from the floor to follow her, leaving in her place Papa's favourite book which she had been trying forever to learn its difficult words and lengthy sentences. The guest took his hat off and placed it in front of his chest as he gave a quick nod to Mama and her; she frowned, because she had never met him before, but he introduced himself and said he worked with Papa, which Mama nodded in return, so it must be alright. He spoke a few words and paused; she had not been able to understand him clearly, but she heard Mama gasp, and reached one arm around her shoulder to pull her small body close against her own, her other hand up to cover her paled lips as she whispered to herself that this wasn't happening. What wasn't happening? What did this strange man say to Mama? She looked at the man who seemed awfully troubled as he gave a deep bow and apologised to Mama, then turned around and left. Mama closed the door behind him, and—like those puppets she saw other children play with when the strings were let loose—her Mama fell to the floor, held her close as she wept against her tiny chest, crying Papa's name; she cried till her throat was too tired to make another noise, her eyes too dry to let another tear. And Natarle knew, there and then, that Papa was gone forever.

* * *

><p><strong>Edited on 19 Oct 2014<strong>


	2. The Colours of Distance

**The Colours of Distance**

He checked his pocket-watch again. For the last half an hour, all he saw were trees. The journey took long enough, and his back was aching from this endless ride, but they had passed through a gate not long ago, so they must be close now.

"We're almost there," his friend sitting across tells him, as if he heard his thoughts. "We just passed through the west front gate; it's through the grove and then we'll see the main gate. Can't believe it's been a year already," the man whispers the last few words to himself with an oddly heavy tone as he ran his fingers through his curly blond hair.

"What was it called again, Mwu?"

"Dominion Hall."

'_Dominion Hall',_ Arnold Neumann repeats in his mind. It was interesting enough that Mwu would invite guests to a house that was not his own but belonging to his cousins, a place where he visited only during his childhood summers or on the family's special occasions. He was Mwu La Fllaga, only child and heir to Lord Al Da Fllaga's legacy; would it not be more appropriate that he entertained his guests at his own house? But he insisted, because he missed his cousins, and they needed visitors as well to liven up the manor, or so he claimed.

'A house of misfortune' was what he would sometimes call it. It originally belonged to Frederick Allster, his maternal grandfather—father of four, which Mwu's mother Rosette was the third child. The eldest was his uncle, George, second was Aunt Katherine, and the last child was named Elysse, whose untimely death came at the young age of thirteen, when his mother and her siblings were all still youths. The house was supposed to pass on to George, but sickness claimed him even before his aged father, and so the inheritance went instead to the next male heir, Muruta Azrael—son of Brandon and Katherine Azrael, older than Mwu by two years.

"But he's been missing since last year. He does it sometimes, run off for days—or even weeks—when he's upset, and then coming back as if nothing happened. But he's never been away for this long. We're still waiting for him to come back; the girls are worried."

"The girls?"

"Muruta's younger sister, Stellar, and our cousins from Uncle George's side, Natarle and Fllay. They had been living here since before the house was given to Muruta, so he let them stay. Yet whenever Aunt Kathy asks to visit, he refuses and says it's too crowded. Dominion Hall being crowded? Rubbish, he just doesn't want to see her; they've been on bad terms for a very long time."

"Is that so?" Arnold raised a questioning brow at Mwu, and he gave a casual shrug as his response as though suddenly he did not care about the topic they were discussing anymore. Usually a straightforward person, it was unlike Mwu to ramble like he just did, nor would he normally make such subjective comments on another person, and it made Arnold curious what kind of relationship he had with those living in the manor.

"Hmm?" The sound came from beside Mwu, their female companion who was napping throughout the journey with her head comfortably propped against his shoulder finally started to wake. She stirred for a bit, then slowly opened her eyes, her hand brushing away the stray locks of wavy brown hair that fell on her face. "Are we there yet?"

"Almost," his voice cheerful again as it usually was, Mwu turned to give young woman a smile. "Look, Murrue, that's the main gate."

Following the direction of Mwu's pointing finger the young woman and Arnold both looked outside their carriage window, and they saw the large iron gate slowly closing in, where beyond the ornately crafted black and gold metal bars was a path that led towards a running fountain, and not far behind it their destination.

It was simply breathtaking, just as Mwu had told them. The beautiful large manor was built from brick and stone, with detailed designs along every edge and corner and its numerous glass windows all gleaming under the radiant sun. Arnold could see some parts of the garden behind the manor, and in the far distance to its side was a lake, the clear water reflecting the blue sky like a mirror. The architecture was much larger than he had expected, but his misconception was mostly Mwu's fault; him calling this manor a house was not doing it justice—to call it a castle would have been a more appropriate description. He immediately took a liking towards the place; unlike most houses he had been to—his own included—which had more contemporary designs, thus more boring in his view, this place had an ancient air around it, an air that instantly drew his interest. It echoed of histories and legends, of stories of the generations before them that dwelled here, and he could not wait to see more of it.

The trotting horses came to a halt, stopping their carriage in front of the entrance after coming around half of the circular path surrounding the fountain, and Mwu was so eager to get out that he nearly leaped off his ride. He turned back and reached a hand out, helping his female companion off the carriage, and Arnold was the last to step down. About half a dozen of the household staff was lined to one side, while on the other stood three young ladies awaiting their arrival—one was of similar age to him and his friends, the other two were younger girls. Before Arnold could take a more detailed look one of the girls ran straight towards Mwu and jumped right into his embrace.

"Stellar has missed you, Mwu! Stellar has missed you so much!" She stretched herself upwards to hang her arms around his neck, while he bent down a bit to allow the girl a stronger hold onto him. "I missed you too, Stellar. Have you been a good girl?" he asked as he let the girl back onto her feet.

"Yes!" She nodded with fierce enthusiasm and a wide smile on her doll-like face, her shoulder-length golden tresses glimmering by the movement of her head. She was the most petite of the three ladies, and which, as Arnold recalled Mwu's small rant on the coach, she was also the younger sister of the estate's owner.

"Let me introduce you, this is Stellar." The girl, hearing her name being mentioned, quickly shed her friskiness and curtseyed to her guests in a graceful manner, greeting them politely, "Welcome to Dominion Hall."

"Yes, we've been looking forward to your arrival since Mwu told us you were coming," a chirpy voice sounded. It was the other girl around the same age as Stellar, who had come towards them with most welcoming smile across her lips. The girl was an equally pretty child; with her flame-red hair and grey-blue eyes she had less of Stellar's daintiness, but a more frivolous glamour. "I'm Fllay, nice to meet you all," she smiled. Then, gesturing towards the remaining person, she introduced, "And that's my sister, Natarle."

The lastly named woman stood still in her place, showing no intention of coming forward to greet her guests. Arnold studied her quickly from where he stood; she had a gorgeous face, a kind of beauty that was unlike the two younger girls—icy and distant, if he must compare them by first impressions—but that was not what stunned Arnold most; it was because her black hair—with a tinge of violet when grazed by the sunlight—was cut so short that along with her tall and lean figure, one could have easily mistaken her for a man if she were not wearing a dress. He had never known of any woman to be so daring to wear her hair this short, and even though he had yet to know her, he could already tell she was one who did not care much about how the world thought of her. And the dress, how plain it was for a person living in such a grand house; its colour was a dull dark blue and its style simple, much different to those very fancy and elaborate dresses the two other girls wore, but from the texture and the tailoring one could tell it was still a dress of fine quality. All that put together gave him the impression that she knew clearly the most prized qualities of a woman, and had deliberately presented herself in the contrary, which he found her boldness quite remarkable. He bowed his head lightly as to extend his appreciation to being a guest of the manor, but she gave no response except for a bitingly cold stare and quiet growl of impatience. "Mr. Halberton," she called of a name, the only words she spoke before she turned around to return inside.

The man from the front of the line of servants stepped forward obediently with a small bow at the woman as she left, and turned back towards them to introduce himself. "Sir, welcome back. Mr. Neumann and Miss Ramius, welcome to Dominion Hall. I hope your journey was well. My name is Lewis Halberton, I serve as the butler here, and this is the housekeeper, Mrs. Erica Simmons," he gestured to the woman standing next to him, who smiled respectfully at them with a swift curtsy. "We will be here to take care of your every need."

"Thank you, Mr. Halberton," Murrue beside him spoke, "I hope our presence here is not too troublesome, we did not mean to upset anyone."

Mwu softly patted on her shoulder to comfort her. "Don't worry, it's alright. I'll explain later. Lewis, could you have the servants bring their luggage upstairs and show them their rooms? And we will have tea afterwards."

"Yes, Sir," Lewis nodded dutifully, and the servants immediately scattered, each busying themselves with their tasks in a self-knowing manner without any need for further instructions.

o-o-o

Arnold was being led down the corridors by the same maid who showed him to his room, which he had turned many corners and passed numerous identical looking doors that he started to wonder if this place was designed as a maze to lose people within itself. The girl slowed down in front of him as they reached a certain set of doors; he heard sounds of people talking from behind them, and he knew he had reached the room he needed to go to.

The doors were opened for him and he entered, and saw that Mwu was already comfortably sat on the sofa, Stellar and Fllay engaged in a lively conversation with Murrue, giggling amongst themselves as if they were already old friends.

"Oh there he is!" Fllay said the moment she spotted him. "Lovely, we can start now."

"But Natarle's not here yet, shouldn't we wait for her as well?" Murrue asked with a whiff of worry in her voice. It was expected that she would have such a concern—given how the hostess received their arrival at the manor, the rest of their stay would be most awkward if they could not conciliate her, or at least understand the cause for her hostility. This was particularly so for Murrue—she was an amiable woman who disliked making hasty judgements, and had a gift of being able to find good in everything and become instant friends with anyone; it was simply impossible to ask her to accept someone as disagreeable before giving her the chance to know this person first.

"Natarle won't be coming," Mwu said as he shifted to one side of the sofa to make room for Arnold, resting his elbow on the arm of the edge and a finger tapping at his temple as if he was giving the question some thought. "Judging by the way she welcomed us? Nope, I don't think so."

"Oh…" Murrue decided not to push the matter, but from her tone they could all hear her disappointment.

"I apologise for my sister's behaviour earlier," Fllay said, laying down her tea on the side table untouched. "She's not a bad person, she's just not quite prepared to have visitors. It wasn't her intention to- to…" The inevitable pause came as she struggled for words, and she lifted her hand and placed her fingers on her lips tentatively, like she had spoken it all wrong and needed to take it back.

"You can't say she didn't _mean_ it. You do know how she doesn't want guests here." Mwu said, helping Fllay out of her entrapment. But the tone in his voice hinted of an admittance of fault, his face turned away towards the window to avoid the stare of everyone around him. "I know it's a bad start, for _all _of us. It'll be better, when she gets used to it. And really, she needs the distraction."

"It's actually Stellar's fault, and Stellar is sorry." It was Stellar who spoke this time, in a timid voice different to the lively her that came to greet Mwu at the entrance. "Stellar was the one who insisted Mwu to come, and to bring friends with him. A lot of things had happened last year, and it's been difficult for us, but Natarle took it particularly hard. Stellar just thought… it'd be nice to have some more people around to cheer Natarle up. Please don't feel that you're unwelcome here, that's not true. We'd really like to get to know you, to make some new friends and have people to spend time with."

Arnold caught her staring at him keenly, and understood that this was not something she was saying just to make the situation less awkward; her words were sincere. He smiled politely in attempt to ease her discomfort. "It's my pleasure. Thank you for the invitation, you are all so kind, and this place is beautiful; I think I will enjoy my stay very much."

It was strange, he thought, how the cousins reacted. It was really not a big deal, at least not for him, to receive a less than warm welcome at his arrival; it certainly was not the norm, but it was not a complete disaster either. Yet Mwu and the two girls kept trying to take responsibility for something that was in fact not their doing and made so much effort to convince them to stay for the young woman's sake, while the one who committed the offence did not even bother to show up.

How does a person surrounded by so much kindness become so indifferent?

o-o-o

She finally showed up at dinner. Arnold had guessed she would probably skip the meal altogether to continue avoiding them, but Mwu said that she was very disciplined when it came to house rules, and since dinner was the most formal meal of the day, she must turn up unless with a very valid reason. His words were confirmed by Lewis, who reported to them when they arrived at the dinning room slightly earlier than needed, that _"Miss Natarle has some errands to take care of, but will be joining shortly,"_ as to mean that they must wait for the hostess before they could start dinner.

She made her entrance with a swift stride and in absolute silence, and promptly took her seat at the head of the table as if she had not noticed any of them there—save for Fllay and Stellar, when Arnold observed for a bit longer, that Stellar had smiled intently at her and she had no choice but look the girl in the eye, and she made the slightest shift in movement when Fllay giggled at their quick exchange of glances. It seemed Lewis had either put in a great deal of thought in seating them, or none at all, but Arnold chose to believe it was the former. The man must have feared how drastically indecorous it would be to have his mistress entertain the very guests she intended to ignore, and placing him and Murrue at the other end of the table with Mwu was a much cleverer option.

Dinner proceeded satisfactorily, but Natarle had stayed quiet throughout, despite Fllay and Stellar's attempts to engage her into the conversations. Arnold could not determine whether she had been genuinely disregarding their presence, or was in fact listening quietly to their discussions but opted not to participate, but he had more than once caught her stealing a quick look towards their direction, and he wondered if she had done so out of curiosity or disdain.

Which was why he was surprised, when they retired to the drawing room after dinner—the same room they spent their afternoon in—that Natarle had decided to join them. She took her seat on the sofa he and Mwu did earlier, with Fllay sat down next to her and linked her arm into Natarle's while Stellar sat on the floor at their feet, her arms crossed in front of her and laid onto Natarle's lap with her head resting affectionately on top. It would have been a picturesque moment, perfectly serene—if not for the unfittingly distracted look on the woman's face.

On the other side, Mwu and Murrue stood in a corner near the balcony window, clearly enjoying their private conversation judging by the sweet laughs and soft sighs that came from their direction. With nothing much to do Arnold chose an armchair nearby the window, where he could better enjoy the summer night breezes.

"Murrue!" Fllay said amidst a fit of giggles. "Please come over, there's something Stellar and I would like to ask you."

"Oh, and what would that be?" Murrue asked as she made her way towards the girls. Mwu wanted to follow, but Stellar was quick to stop him, "Mwu, stay where you are now. It's girls' talk."

With a huff Mwu stood still, looking slightly displeased. Then as if she had been waiting forever for this moment, Natarle shot up from her seat and made her way to Mwu, grabbing him by his arm towards the other end of the line of windows. "We have to talk."

Arnold did not mean to eavesdrop, but he could not help having a good ear, and the windows were closed, all except the one behind him to the left, which they had the effect of echoing the sounds coming from where they stood, allowing him to catch the louder whispers of their hushed conversation.

"-but they will know!"

"Not if we are careful."

"But Fllay-"

"_Fllay_ will manage perfectly fine. _You_ of all people should have faith in her."

Their talk came to an abrupt end after Mwu's declaration, and for one moment Arnold thought they had stopped because they discovered he could hear them. He looked up to confirm, and to his relief his guess was wrong—instead, Natarle had stood like a frozen statue with her head down in unwilling resignation, the expression on her face telling of Mwu's unquestionable victory in their debate. Seconds passed like minutes as Arnold waited to see what would happen, and when she finally looked up she caught his stare, her violet eyes distant and miserable—the eyes of a person who had given up the fight.

It was sad, and it was beautiful; this was the exact moment the impression of her had been forever etched into Arnold's mind, accompanying her not the scenery of the furbished room, nor the remembrance of her standing at the entrance of the manor, the first moment he had ever set his eyes on her; it was none of those, but of a haze of colours—of charcoal greys and midnight purples and ocean blues; of cold, lonely colours of the starless night.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note<strong>

So there you go, the first two chapters of the story!

For those who have been around long enough to know who I am (or read the stories I've posted before), you will know that I'm horrible at getting updates done. But not this time! I have already finished writing up the whole story and did a first round of proof-reading, and since most of the work is already done, I'll try to update once a week, and depending on the chapter length, _maybe_ twice in the same week if one of the chapters is a super short one.

My first proper story, and by proper I mean it's got a start and an end, plus a well thought-out plot (I guess. I _hope_.). Chapters are short, averaging around 2-3k words each (but then this is already longer than what I used to do in the past), mainly because I like to keep them in a manageable length, plus it's easier that way for me to work the plot. There are 49 chapters, which means if you're staying with me throughout the whole story you'll have about 10 months to a year's supply of reading material. Lol. If you're not, then um, oh well, at least thanks for reading these two chapters. *shrugs*

Mind you, there will be some OOCness, simply due to the AU nature of the story. I've tried my best to keep them in character, but please try to understand if they aren't exactly as they were in the original. Ages also are not the same as in the original in order for the story to work out properly, but I suppose that shouldn't be a huge issue?

As always, would love to hear your comments! Any comments are good, just no flames please. :)


	3. ONE

**ONE**

Natarle did not know who this man was, and how he came to find them, but she knew from the reaction Mama gave when he appeared at their door—a frightful gasp and an immediate attempt to shut him out—that he was one of those people she and Papa wished would not find them. He was strong, like Papa and all the other grown up men, and he easily prised the door open despite Mama's effort to keep it shut with him outside. "There's no point now, Ellie," he said, and as simple as that Mama gave up the fight.

Curiously Mama was not afraid of him, nor did it seem like he was going to do harm to Mama or her, like she had always feared. Whenever Mama and Papa talked of 'those people', she thought of brutes and monsters, but this man was civilized, and very gentlemanly. His clothes were clean and well-fitted, with shiny buttons attached and a silk tie around his neck, and it looked nothing like what the people living on their street wore. She remembers a photo kept in Mama's drawer—of Mama dressed in a beautiful gown and Papa wearing this kind of clothes, and together they looked a very handsome couple.

She hid behind her Mama all along, following as closely as she could when Mama led the gentleman inside. He took a seat on one of the wooden chairs in the sitting room as Mama went into the kitchen to prepare tea, and she did not want to be left alone with him, so she hurriedly followed Mama's steps. As Mama stood by the stove waiting for the kettle to boil, she spotted a look on Mama's face she had seen only once before, on that day not long after Papa was gone—the day which they all wore black, at something called a funeral—her brows were pushed together towards the top of her nose bridge, her eyes tightly closed and lips pulled thin, and her hand would reach for the silver pendant around her neck, laid back down, and reached up again, like she couldn't decide where she wanted to rest it. Was this called sadness, or was it worry? Was it both, or was it neither, and something else entirely? She tugged lightly onto Mama's apron, and Mama turned to look at her, then slowly she placed her palm on the top of her small head and ran it down to her cheek. "It's alright. We'll be alright."

She did not want to be near that man, so she stayed in the kitchen, hiding behind the door frame to watch as Mama went into the sitting room to join their guest. Mama passed him his tea, and spoke in a tone she had never heard before; it was still her usual calm, soft voice, but there was also rare impatience and tiredness in it. "You never gave up."

The gentleman sighed so heavily that she thought it was deliberate. "Did you think you could hide forever?"

"No, but we meant to try, and certainly had hoped to succeed."

"I'm glad I've found you. I can't imagine you of all people living here in this- this shabby, awful… _shack_. "

"This awful shack is my home."

"Your home should be in a grand house with servants to attend on you, beautiful dresses to wear, and fine food for meals. You are _Elizabeth Crawford_. And he… he was the heir to one of the largest estates in the country. How did you two end up like this?"

There was a long pause, and she looked over to her Mama. She could not understand any of this conversation, but Papa had once told her that there were a lot of things children would not understand until after they grew up, so she decided to leave her questions at the very back of her mind and continue to wait patiently. Then, when Mama had finally found her answer, she spoke quieter than before, "Because we couldn't make the choices we wanted to."

"Ellie-"

"We never regretted it. Even though things didn't turn out as we had wished, and now with Edward gone… But it's been the happiest time of my life. I'm sorry we had to run away, and I never properly apologised to you; that letter I left you—I was hoping to explain everything, but it must have made you more confused. I'm sorry… that I had given you so much trouble."

"It wasn't the trouble of the aftermath that upset me; it did too, of course, but it was more about you leaving me. Two weeks before our wedding."

"I'm so sorry."

"We grew up together. You only knew him for six months, but you still chose to go with him."

"I'm sorry. But Eddie was… he was my world."

The man did not respond any further, as though Mama's hushed words had such power that they could silence him without even trying.

It was quiet for a very long time, and she began to drift asleep until she heard some shuffling, and as she looked back into the sitting room she saw the man rise from his seat and put on his coat, and Mama standing as well to lead him to the door. She quickly got up to follow behind Mama and see that gentleman out the door. He opened the door, then turned around and lowered himself so he was kneeling at the same height she was, and he smiled. "You have your mother's beautiful face."

That was what Papa had always told her. _"You look exactly like your mother, but your dark hair is mine. You will grow up to be such a fine, beautiful lady, my sweet girl."_

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The gentleman came back to visit again, two weeks after that first time, and continued to do so for a period of time. He would come twice a week, sometimes more frequent, sometimes less. He began bringing presents; food, new clothes, and even sweets. He would try to make conversations with her when Mama was busy readying lunch or afternoon tea, and she would talk politely, just as Mama taught her to. _"Papa would have been so proud of you,"_ Mama would say, and give her a smile so bright that would keep her happy for the rest of the day.

And one day, when the man had left after lunching with them, Mama sat her down on a chair and knelt down in front of her, leaning in close and resting her hands carefully onto her lap, as if comforting her.

"Tell me, darling, do you like that gentleman?"

Did she? She did not dislike him, that she knew, but she was not sure whether she liked him either. She simply thought of that man as someone she would see every so often, a person who was familiar but strange at the same time. She shrugged, with a slight tilt of the head and a puzzled look on her face.

Mama smiled. "You don't know what to think, do you? It's alright. What do you say if we went to live with him?"

This time she tipped her head down, as if using all the energy she can muster to think through this question. She looked back up again, and gave another stiff shrug.

"To live with him, like a family. For him to become you father."

The word shook her deeply, and she sat up instinctively like she had been hit on the back. "But he's not Papa."

"No, sweetheart, he's not Papa. He won't be; he _can't_ be."

"But my father is Papa."

"Yes, he is. But Papa is no longer here, and there are things that even Mama cannot do. Mama will never leave you, this I promise. I will do everything I can to protect you, to keep you safe, but I fear even that is not enough; I may have the willpower, but I don't have the strength, and I am afraid."

"Mama." She moved forward and wrapped her small arms firmly around her Mama's neck. Mama's soft violet hair had the sweet smell of flowers, and it felt so comforting. She just wanted to stay like this, in her Mama's embrace. Papa was gone; it was only Mama and her left, and she wanted them to be together forever.

"Wherever Mama goes, I will go too."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note<strong>

I know, I know, this chapter, like the prologue, _still_ doesn't tell you much about what's really going on… I ask that you be patient with me for just one or two more chapters, and you'll find out. Pretty please? (But then, *hint hint* if you've been paying attention to the finer details, use a bit of imagination and you would probably be able to make an accurate guess.)

Thanks very much for the reviews! I couldn't reply directly to both of you, because you weren't logged in, so I hope it's ok if I reply you here.

**To strike rouge:** Though the first two chapters weren't very meaty in terms of storytelling, I'm glad you still found it interesting! Rest assured, there will definitely be more!

**To Aya:** O. M. G. You are so sharp! I was going to say this in this chapter's Author's Note anyway, but you caught it first! Yes, I deliberately used all the characters voiced by Houko Kuwashima, and this was actually one of the main inspirations when I started working on the story plot.

I have _always_ wanted to write a story centred on the "Houko Kuwashima sisters". *sniggers* For those who've never heard the original Japanese dub, Houko Kuwashima is the seiyu who voiced Natarle, Fllay, and Stellar. Yes, all three of them (and done an amazing job at that!). Which is why sometimes in the Japanese fanart you see works of them three together, despite Stellar had never met the other two in the story. Absolutely adorable stuff, I tell you!

And one final note: when I was updating this chapter, I noticed that FF's system did something to the formatting for the previous chapter and deleted the section breaks in my original document, which made the flow quite awkward. It took me a while to fix it, because FF's system seems very restrictive. Anyway, I've put back the breaks into my previous chapter now.

That's it for this week's update… I'd love to hear your comments!

**Edited on 19 Oct 2014**


	4. Portraits and Windows

**Portraits and Windows**

"So what would you two like to do today?" asked Mwu, who had slumped into his seat with one arm hanging casually onto the back of the long sofa while using his free hand to stifle his yawn.

He had just finished breakfast with Arnold and Murrue, and had moved to the morning room where they found Fllay and Stellar sat there, having already had their breakfast before them. Natarle was there with them at the meal, and usually she would have come to the morning room too as that was her routine, but ever since the guests' arrival she refused to join them, and it was not difficult to see why. Fllay had suggested they should give her some time to adapt, so Stellar decided to let her be.

But the awkwardness stayed, hanging in the air like a thin layer of mist, which the two guests could not pretend that it was not there, but felt it was not in their place to acknowledge it either. They gave no reply, with Murrue smiling at them with an unsure shrug, and Arnold humming a careless tune, an obvious show that he was happy to just go with the flow.

"How about we take you on a tour around the house?" Stellar asked with much enthusiasm in her chirpy voice. "It's really a lovely place here; so many different and beautifully decorated rooms. Maybe after a look around you'll find something you like?"

"That's a great idea!" Murrue jumped at the suggestion. "Mwu always talk about how beautiful the place is, and he's gotten me very interested."

Mwu raised a curious eyebrow, not disapproving of Murrue's statement, but seemed a bit surprised by her eagerness. "Do I talk about Dominion Hall a lot?"

"More than you realise," she turned to him, a knowing look in her eyes as she answered him. "So, what will we see first?"

"Hmm," Fllay made an exaggerated sound as if it was a very difficult question. "Let's see, it's rather hazy out there so it's not the best time to see the garden… How about the gallery? We can start with the gallery, then we'll have a look around the rooms. We can go to the garden after lunch; hopefully we'll have a better sun by then."

"Stellar thinks this is a very good plan! Shall we?" Stellar clapped her hands together as she got up from her seat, already impatient to start their tour. Fllay stood up in agreement, and the two girls raced each other to the door like a playful pair of young rabbits, the rest of them only to follow hurriedly behind so as not to lose them.

A few days in this mansion yet it still felt like the first, the corridors and doors and staircases seemed never-ending, and Arnold wondered if they would manage a complete tour of the whole manor within one day. Thankfully he was alright with remembering directions, with a bit of luck this tour would help him familiarise himself with the place so that he would not be needing anymore help to find his way around.

They came to a particularly large set of wooden doors, its chestnut coloured surface decorated with intricate carvings of an elegant design. Stellar stood at the door with her hands on the big brass handles, and looked at them with a proud yet playful smile, as if she were about to open up a treasure chest. "Here we are," she announced, and pushed in with all her strength, the heavy doors opened and revealed to them a huge chamber full of paintings, sculptures, and all sorts of collections.

One by one they had each discovered a different piece of art that took their interest, and the group had soon scattered, each on their own little venture around the chamber. Murrue seemed particularly amazed by the marble statues, roaming around aimlessly to wherever the next piece took her, with Mwu striding behind loyally, eager to offer his explanation wherever it was required.

The two sides of the chamber were lined with paintings of various sizes and people, and Arnold soon found himself stopping in front of each one for a closer study. The subjects of the paintings were mostly people of the Allster family, and the more paintings he saw, the more did he see the traits of the bloodline, the certain features of their faces, eyes and hair that gave them a resemblance of each other. He came to a full size portrait of a mature couple, and the title below its frame wrote 'Frederick and Diana Allster'. The man stood upright, his grey-blue eyes stoic and honey blond hair swept back, one hand behind his back and one on the shoulder of the woman who sat in front. The woman wore a soft smile on her face, her eyes twinkled and maroon hair tied up in a complex twist that sat at the back of her head.

"That's Grandpapa," a voice beside him said. He turned, and saw Fllay standing next to him. "And Grandmother."

"Mwu said your Grandfather doted on you very much," Arnold said with curiosity in his voice.

"Yes. Yes he did," Fllay replied thoughtfully, her fingers brushing lightly on her lips as she looked at the painting; remembering the past, perhaps?

"And your Grandmother?"

"I don't know; they say she was a very kind person. The truth is I never had the chance to meet her. She died soon after giving birth to her last child, long before I was born. I only came to live here when I was six, after Papa died."

She moved on to the next painting, turning back to Arnold and tilted her head slightly, beckoning him to join her.

"This was Papa when he was still a child, and his siblings."

The painting showed four young children—two girls sitting in the middle, the youngest girl in front, and the lone boy, eldest of the four, standing behind. The youngest child had flame red hair, the only one who had inherited this trait from their mother, as all the other three had blond hair like Frederick. "You look a lot like her, that girl in front; the red hair, and the eyes."

"That's what Grandpapa used to say too," Fllay smiled. "She's Elysse, the youngest and Grandpapa's favourite. Not just Grandpapa; she was a sweetheart and everyone loved her. I suppose the reason Grandpapa liked me so much was because of her."

"But she died when she was very young, I heard."

"Yes, she was only thirteen when the accident happened—Mr. Halberton told me about it. She was climbing a tree, and fell to her death. Her decease brought a lot of tension to the house, particularly Grandpapa's relationship with the rest of the family; everything just shifted sideways," she spoke with a careful tone, then decided she did not want to talk further about it. "But enough of that, such a dreadful subject dampens the mood, doesn't it?"

Arnold smiled apologetically as he walked with her down along the wall, until he found Stellar standing across the hall in front of a painting; staring and unmoving, as if the time surrounding her had ceased. In the painting was a young man, the colour of his blond hair like Stellar and the rest of the Allsters; he stood proudly but unsmiling, his baby blue eyes expressionless.

"The person in that portrait is Muruta, Stellar's brother," Fllay explained. "Mwu must have told you already; he's been missing for a few months now."

"It must be really hard for her."

"It's been hard for everyone," she corrected him in a neutral voice, neither accusing nor distressed, like she was only stating a fact. "But we don't talk about him, not if we can help it."

"Um-hmm." He caught the hint, and made sure she knew he did. Fllay headed towards Stellar's direction, and he decided he would not follow so as to avoid bringing up another discomforting topic by mistake. He went across the hall but towards the opposite direction from the two girls, glancing over the paintings for something worth a more detailed look into. Then in that sudden moment, as though his instinct had told him to stop searching, he caught sight of one particular painting, and he stopped in his tracks, his eyes refusing to look away.

It was a portrait of three women—one obviously the mother, and the other two were sisters, the first older than the other by a few years.

'Elizabeth, Natarle and Fllay'.

He would not have believed his eyes, but he was very sure he made no mistake when he read the title again. The two sisters looked much younger than they were now—at least five or six years younger—so this painting must have been completed some time ago, nevertheless they were the same faces; it was undeniably them.

He had found difficulty picturing Natarle wearing her dark hair long like most women do, yet now he was seeing it with his very own eyes. Her hair reached to midway her back, and she wore an elegant white gown, unlike the plain and dark coloured dress he saw her in the day before. She was smiling here, somewhat bashfully, and it was hard to relate this picture of her to the one he met in person. Here she looked very pretty and approachable, exactly like how young ladies should be; the other her was cold and uncaring, always distancing herself from them. But it was exactly this distance that made her more mysterious, more compelling—more _arresting_, the word he decided he needed was, when he realised he that rather liked how she looked now, with those strong eyes, firm posture, that one disheartened glance, and the deep, solitary colours he associated her with—that gave him the unexplainable urge to understand her more.

She had inherited none of the Allster characteristics, but instead looked like a younger version of her mother, almost identical save for the colour of her hair; hers was much darker than her mother's. But he remembered seeing a purple hue in it when under the sun, and he supposed it must have come from her mother's deep violet hair. She held her sister close, hands on her shoulders protectively, and the younger girl was beaming in the affection given.

It felt slightly different in the way the red-haired girl was portrayed in the painting and the way she carried herself now. There was a sparkle in her grey-blue eyes that hinted of mischief, and the way her limbs were held, full of spiritedness, made her more alive than her real-life counterpart; it was as if the painter saw something in her that others could not see, and captured it so well that one could not place it in the real person, but could only find it through his eyes by the means of his art. _'Innocence lost'—_the words rushed into his mind, reviving the earlier conversation he had with the girl; the events in the past year must have matured her greatly.

"Is that Fllay and Natarle?"

Suddenly he found Murrue and Mwu standing next to him, and a surprised look appeared on Murrue's face as she focused her attention on the painting. "They looked so different, particularly Natarle. I never imagined she kept her hair long once."

"Or course she did—don't all girls do the same?" Mwu said in an unbelieving voice, sounding like it was strange for Murrue to even think that way.

"Oh? So you know well what girls are like?" She eyed him back teasingly, then challenged him further with another question, "Then why did she cut her hair?"

"How would I know why? Must have been a whim or something like that. And for your knowledge, I'm not particularly well-acquainted with the female gender; I only know a few girls, but you know what? There is one _particular_ girl that I do know exceptionally well," he replied with an intentional stare at her, causing her to blush.

Their banter was cut short by a loud, uninterested sigh that indicated a clear awareness of the changing atmosphere. "Good Lord, I'm going to go," Arnold rolled his eyes, turning himself around as he gave a dismissive wave of his hand, wanting no part in this conversation between his two friends. "You two can stay here and continue to enjoy each other's company."

"Arnold, wait up!" Murrue scurried behind, looking back to make a face at Mwu, who was now wearing a childish grin as he followed languidly.

o-o-o

They had spent much longer in the gallery than they originally planned, and so they decided to have lunch first, and tour the remainder of the rooms and the garden afterwards.

It was an enjoyable meal, and although Natarle was still_—_as expected_—_absent, Stellar and Fllay had made good hostesses in her place, and the atmosphere grew in their invitingness. The girls, particularly Murrue, were keen to resume their tour after the meal, so they skipped having coffee in the drawing room and went straight for the rooms in the East Wing, and had proceeded towards the chambers in the middle afterwards.

"This is the small parlour. We use this room after meals instead of the drawing room if we have no guests."

Stellar had led them into another room, its layout similar to the drawing room with the long sofas and armchairs, a piano in the corner and a fireplace at the end of the room. It was a bit smaller, but decorated in creamier colours; the wallpapers in soft saffron, furniture in whites and beiges, and it had a more relaxed feel to it.

She showed them around the room, detailing things that might be of their interest. Then she led them out the door again when they were ready to move on, and back down the path they came in.

"We haven't seen that side yet," Murrue pointed towards the opposite direction, the lights in that end of the corridor much dimmer, windows closed and curtains drawn.

"Oh, that corridor leads to the West Wing, but it's closed off now. We don't use the rooms on that side anymore, there's too few of us in this house so it's rather pointless to keep it open," Fllay explained. "It's rather dusty and dark on that side of the house, so it's not in the best shape for guests to visit."

"Ah, alright."

"I'm sorry if we've disappointed you," Fllay shrugged apologetically with a slightly embarrassed smile.

"Oh no, please don't say that, I'm perfectly fine with it. Where to next?"

"The library, it's just around the corner. Right this way."

They followed Stellar's lead, until just as they were about to reach a turn situated next to a staircase when Murrue got distracted by the sight outside the window, and she went closer, her forehead leaning on the window pane to get a better view. "It's beautiful…"

What she saw was the garden they had been talking of in the morning. The weather had cleared and they now understood why the girls had been so eager to show them the place; it was a wondrous sight—the grand garden stretched beyond the two wings of the manor, surrounded by carefully trimmed hedges and sectioned symmetrically with a delicate balance of flora, the summer flowers in full bloom; a gazebo sat in the middle of the landscape, and there was a fountain, smaller than the one on the front side, not far from the entrance to the grounds where a pair of marble statues stood.

"May we go see the garden, please?" Murrue asked, her excitement glittering in her amber eyes.

Fllay and Stellar looked at each other, and in sync a smile appeared on each of their faces. "Why not?"

"Come!" They both darted off, their laughter resounding in the encirclement of the stairwell as they spiralled down. Murrue decided not to waste one second and hurried to keep up, dragging Mwu with her, leaving Arnold no choice but to go after them.

The garden looked the more astonishing the closer they got to it. Droplets of clear water from the fountain sparkled under the sun like a shower of diamonds, and the sweet smell of flowers oozed from every corner they turned. The gazebo was well placed and every direction gave a different view: towards the front was the backside of the manor, to the back was a path that led uphill towards a small woodland; on the two sides, one was a plateau of green grass which reached far like it was limitless, and far off the other side was a lake, the very same one they saw when they were arriving at the place in their coach.

Mwu and Murrue had wandered off themselves, not surprising to him as the atmosphere was well suited for a more private and intimate conversation—not at all an issue to him, as Fllay and Stellar were eager to be of his company, tugging and pushing as they could not wait to show him every path and corner of the garden.

The clouds had cleared long ago and the sun was strong, and it was beginning to get a bit too hot. Arnold soon decided to stay away from the sun and opted for a rest in the gazebo, but Fllay and Stellar seemed completely unaffected, and continued to chase around tirelessly in the garden. He watched them play, and amused in how he could not shake off that impression of them as a pair of white rabbits—innocent and pure, a stark contrast against the melancholic blues and purples that kept coming to his mind.

All of a sudden he caught a movement in the corner of his eye and he reflexively looked up, and found himself looking towards a particular window where a figure stood behind the glass. Through that window, on the second floor of the manor, he saw her—the woman who had assumed a new ownership of those flashes of dark colours his mind kept seeing. She stood there watching them, her hand pressing on the window pane as though it was the only thing standing between her and them, the one thing that held her back and kept her in that room, and she would have came down to them if the choice was given to her.

Then she jolted in the most unexpected moment, and backed away from the window, still looking at their direction. At him, more precisely, and he knew she finally noticed he had been staring at her all this time.

'_Wait, stay.'_

The voice in his mind was loud and eager, as if the thought was so strong it would have reached her without the need for her to even hear it, but she had already turned away and fled. He could not take his eyes off the window pane, hoping that she would return, but he waited and waited, and never saw that moment.

"What are you looking at?" Fllay's curious voice asked, her face appearing right in front of him from out of nowhere.

"You can see Dominion Hall in its whole from here," he said carelessly, choosing to keep his thoughts to himself. "It's such an amazing place, this estate."

Fllay sat down beside him, smiling in content as she watched Stellar chase a butterfly among the rose beds. "It is, yes; very amazing. It makes one feel like you have walked into a place you've only seen in your dreams, and you would wonder, if it is real, or if it is really just a dream. Like you feel you are lost in a maze, but you're not sure if you want to get back out."

"A maze?"

"A maze. A dream. Same difference, don't you think?"

"That's an interesting thought, considering it coming from you," he replied. "This is your home, but why do you sound like you think of it as some distant place?"

Fllay tilted her head and shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe it is, in a way; I don't know. Sometimes I simply don't know what I think about this place."

They sat in silence for a while as there was no way forward for the strange conversation to continue. Then out of the blue Arnold asked with his finger pointing towards the front, "That room up there on the second floor, what room is it?"

"That? Oh, it's the library. We were originally going to see it after the small parlour, but we came down here instead. Do you like books?"

"Very."

"Lovely! It's got a vast collection of them there. You should go and have a look sometime; I'm sure you'd love the place."

"I certainly shall."

Arnold smiled to himself; it was such an awfully appealing suggestion Fllay had given him.

o-o-o

They were back in the drawing room after dinner, and the room was filled with a much warmer air, thanks to the eventful day they shared. Stellar was tackling Mwu on the floor, fighting over a jar that contained the butterfly Stellar had caught in the afternoon, and Murrue and Fllay sat on the ridge of the newly improvised arena, laughing as they enjoyed the show. Arnold sat in an armchair nearby, close enough to see the action but far enough not to get caught in it.

The cousins' childish brawl was fun to watch, but he was more interested in the woman that sat by herself on the small sofa in the far corner of the room, her posture upright and a book on her lap, quiet and still like that side of the room was a world of her own. Mwu had mentioned that she would be there, just like the night before, because it was family tradition—one that was set up by her mother—that they would go to the drawing room after dinner and share the rest of the evening. But she just sat there, in the corner, as though her presence was only to fulfil a responsibility, and she seemed so—for the lack of a better word—_alone_.

Arnold got up from his seat and walked over, then sat down on the other end of her sofa; wordlessly, but his eyes never off her.

When she could not take the stare anymore, she turned impatiently to him and hissed, "What do you want?"

He grinned. "So you do speak."

"You-!" She bit her lip and her eyes were fiery, clearly trying to hold back words that would be deemed ill-mannered if they ever came out.

"You're rather quick to anger, aren't you? I didn't mean to offend, I'm just curious; we never spoke ever since our arrival here."

She glared at him but chose not to respond, and then turned her attention back to her book indicating she was not going to answer him. Getting to know her would prove to be a challenge.

Arnold loved challenges.

"Fllay and Stellar brought us to the gallery today, I saw that portrait of you and Fllay with your mother. You looked quite pretty with that long hair, it gives a completely different impression from what you do now; why did you cut it?"

Her body froze awkwardly; she turned to face him with hurt in her eyes, as if he had jabbed her with a knife and she had only just began to feel the pain, and he quickly realised he might have hit a sore spot. He expected her to reproach him for crossing a line, but she had only stared at him, with that look of reluctant defeat on her face he had seen just the night before—it was the exact same look she had following her argument with Mwu.

An apology would have been the appropriate thing to say, except he did not want to. There was something in her sorrowful glance that made him unable to look away; something more to her than that sense of detachment; something that led him closer to understanding this mysterious stranger.

"But if I were to chose, I'd like you better as you are now; I know it's unusual for a lady to have a hairstyle like yours, but I personally think it matches well with that intensity and boldness you have." He spoke slowly, taking note of every tiny reaction she gave. He noticed the way she tilted her head sideways in the manner of needing to digest his words, her amethyst eyes full of confusion. He found himself amused by her, and decided to push it just a bit more. "There's a certain kind of strength you possess that very few women have, and that's something I find very beautiful."

Her body flinched, and she swiftly looked away to hide her embarrassment from his overt praise. Was it a blush he managed to glimpse? It was completely unexpected to him, yet awfully endearing. _'Such an interesting woman she is,'_ he thought. It must have taken her a lot of willpower to face him again, because she had stayed unmoving in her place for quite a long while until he finally leaned in closer and urged her to respond. When she did, she turned towards him with an unbelieving look in her face like she had just heard the most farfetched lie.

"I doubt-" she hesitated, still reluctant to look him in the eye, but he knew from the slight tremble in her voice that there were some words that she was determined to say, as much as it was a struggle for her. "I doubt anyone would find a woman like me attractive, particularly with this… _odd_ hair, and my… plainness. But thank you, for offering me consolation. You are a kind person, Mr. Neumann."

But it was not an attempt to comfort; it was a genuine compliment, and how did she ever come to think of it otherwise? His mind quickly started searching for something to say to clear her misunderstanding, but she had already got up from her seat. "It's getting late, and I'm rather tired. I shall go back to my room now. Good night, Mr. Neumann."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note<strong>

Fourth chapter! Don't have much to say for this chapter, except if you're here for the mystery (well, it _is_ categorised as drama/mystery), maybe it would be a good idea to start looking for clues. Or, feel free to come back again when the heftier questions start popping up in the later chapters.

Do let me know your comments, whether you like it or not. I'd really love to hear some feedback!


	5. TWO

**TWO**

The gentleman had brought Mama and her to another house to live with him, far away from the only home she had ever known of.

The house was a large place, with so many rooms that she would lose count and get lost if she did not pay attention—which was why she could not understand it when he would sometimes apologise to Mama for not being able to give them a better place to live in, that they deserve better than this 'small cottage' of his.

He was very kind to her, which had eased Mama's worries as she had at first feared that they would not get along well. But they did get along rather well; he had put in a lot of effort to understand her better, and paid attention to the ups and downs of her moods. After he had noticed her budding interest in books, he would always come back from his trips with a new book or two that he bought along the way as a present for her. He was a good man, and although living with him was never going to be the same as with Papa before, it would suffice.

She calls him 'Father' now, just like Mama had asked her to before—always 'Father', but never 'Papa'. Papa may be gone, but he still was and always would be her only Papa, irreplaceable, like she was to him; this way, and only this way, would she be able to keep the memories of him alive forever.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Apparently she was going to have a new sibling. She wonders what it would feel like to be the elder child, to be responsible for caring for another person, because Mama and Father has high hopes in her that she will be a good sister to the unborn child.

When the time came, she was actually scared. Not because of the uncertainty she constantly felt in waiting for her new sibling, but because of the screaming that came from Mama's room as she and Father sat outside as they waited. Well, she sat; Father tried, but every now and then he would get up and pace back and forth, standing in front of the door wanting to go in, but then sitting back down again without doing so. And then the midwife came out to congratulate him, the next moment he had already disappeared behind the door.

She was not sure if she was expected to wait outside or go in to see Mama, but then she heard Mama call her name, and she rushed inside straight towards her, giving her the hardest hug her shaky, feeble arms could manage. The newborn was in Father's arms, and he sat down on Mama's beside so they could both take a good look at the baby girl.

The baby's eyes were closed, but she would make these small and sudden movements that made it hard to tell whether she was asleep or just dreaming; do newborn babies dream? Her skin was very pink, like how peaches were, and there was this small tuff of red hair sitting on the top of her head that looked rather odd. Mama took the baby's small hand and placed it in hers, asking her to hold it gently.

"She's your new sister, Natarle. Her name is Fllay."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Fllay grew up to be such a sweet child, always lively and cheerful; when she smiles, she smiles as bright as the sun could be, and when she laughs, she laughs like a bird's song being sung. She adores the girl, because when with her, she can again see those brilliant colours of that small street she once lived on.

Everybody loved Fllay, but she could tell Father particularly so—everything Fllay asked for, Father would never say no: to sit on his lap, a plea for a new doll, or the cookie in the jar Mama had refused her. Father would always call her his sweetheart, and Fllay's pretty face would light up, like it was the best praise ever given to her. And she misses those days when _her_ Papa would call her his sweet, darling girl.

o-o-o

Father would often make trips into town, and from time to time he would bring them with him so they could have some fun. Mama preferred to stay in the house, thus she would ask her to take care of Fllay when they were out.

Fllay's favourite place was the shop that sold fine, pretty dolls; they were truly very nice dolls, and Fllay never left the shop without a new one in her arm. One time Fllay asked her if she wanted one too, but Father had heard her and laughed. _"Sweetheart, you don't know your sister well. Natarle is not as fond of dolls as you are; she prefers books, and that makes her a very clever person."_ So she decided, by the words and thus expectations of her Father, that she should never be fond of dolls.

This time they went, the lady at the shop told them there was some new stock, and had gotten Fllay very excited. The lady showed them the cabinet where the new dolls sat, and there on the shelves were soft toys made in the shapes of different animals; bears, bunnies, puppies and kittens. Fllay squealed, picking one up and then putting it down again as she went for another, then had soon lost interest in them and went to look elsewhere. She sighed as she watched her young sister dash off; such a pity she did not like them, they were all so lovely, particularly that bear with a pair of big eyes, light brown coat of fur, and a red bowtie around its neck. She held it for a while, then put it back down, and waited patiently as Fllay explored the shop. When Fllay returned she caught her staring at the bear, and asked most innocently, "Do you like the bear?"

She smiled. "It's a nice bear."

"Would you get it? Ask Papa to get it for you." Fllay said as if it was the most natural thing to do.

"Oh no. No, I wouldn't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because… because Father doesn't think I like these things."

"But it's a very lovely bear! I like it very much too!"

"Yes, it's lovely. It suits you very much; much more than it suits me."

Fllay looked at her in puzzlement, then as if her mind suddenly clicked, she grabbed the bear with a grin across her lips and she ran towards her father, holding it up to him as her indication for wanting to own the item.

Fllay was very excited with her new bear, and had been toying with it restlessly throughout the ride back home; she did not even stop to show the bear to Mama when they got home, which she usually would have done, and had ran straight upstairs and did not come back down until it was time for dinner.

After the meal Fllay was anxious to get back to her room, so Mama and Father let her go as she willed. The girl came to where she sat and tugged her by the arm, "Natarle, I don't want to go alone. Come with me!"

She looked towards Mama, who smiled back in approval, and so she went with her sister who was humming gleefully all along the way. They got to the rooms but Fllay had made an early turn, and all of a sudden they were in her own room.

Fllay would not stop giggling, and she had no idea why. The girl kept urging her to go to sleep, trying to convince her that it was getting late, but how was she supposed to be able to sleep when it was hours before their usual bedtime? Fllay soon got irritated with her noncompliance, and as a desperate measure the young girl knocked onto her with her small body, shoving her onto the bed.

As soon as she landed onto her bed Fllay climbed up to join her, crawling to where her pillows sat and lied down, pretending to sleep. She let out a heavy sigh for not being able to understand what her sister was trying at, and then, as she brushed away her long hair that covered her face she noticed something sitting between her pillows that was never there before—the new bear Fllay had Father buy for her this afternoon.

"Fllay, your bear; what is it doing in my room?"

"I don't want it anymore. You can have it!"

"Me? But I thought you really liked the bear."

"You did too. You like the bear very much, don't you?" She got up, sitting the bear up properly and patted on its head. "But I don't like it now, so I want you to have it!"

And she finally understood why Fllay was so eager to get her back to her room—for her to see the surprise she got for her, the bear that she had liked but would not dare ask Father for.

There was a surge of warmness that suddenly came to her, from deep inside her chest, rushing through her blood and veins; this intense feel of happiness that made her feel she wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, with that sense of isolation she felt ever since the birth of her younger sister vanishing into the air. She embraced her sister and thanked her; for her kindness, her affection—for truly seeing her as she was. And she swore to herself she would be forever devoted to this child.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note<strong>

So, remember back in Chapter 3 when I asked you to wait a chapter or two, and it'll start to make more sense? I'm hoping you've figured out by now that the story is actually shifting between the present and the past. Due to my personal preference for storytelling techniques, I've decided to separate them by chapters instead of fitting flashbacks into the present scenes. (If you've read my other works, you'll probably be aware that I don't like using those _–flashback–_ tags.)

I hope my writing is clear enough to tell which chapter falls onto what period, but if not, you can always tell by the title of the chapter. Chapters with a proper title (e.g. _The Colours of Distance_) are those happening in the present, and those titled by a number (e.g. _ONE_) are the past (except for the prologue, which technically fits in the past as well). There will also be a third type coming up, but telling you will give away the story, so you'll just have to wait for them. I'm sure the last type is distinctive enough to be told apart from these two.

Till next time!


	6. A Hidden Treasure

**A Hidden Treasure**

She had completely surprised them, when they walked into the dining room and saw her sitting there in her designated seat, that she was still having breakfast with Fllay and Stellar. The dark-haired woman had not bothered to look at them, but the smiles on the other two girls' faces when they turned to greet them suggested that this was not a situation that they would find troubling. Mwu chuckled, and went past their seats with a quick pat on Stellar's head.

Murrue walked past after Mwu, though not before stopping beside Natarle for a proper greeting, which she responded with the same politely. But when Arnold came to her she looked away immediately, and replied to his 'good morning' in a voice so quiet that he almost missed it. Mwu let out a laugh so loud like it was the best joke he had heard in days. "Seems like you're finally getting along," he said, which instantly earned him a glare from her at the other end of the table.

Despite only casual nods and a simple word or two every so often, Natarle was at least being responsive now, willingly acknowledging her guests' presence. Stellar was visibly delighted by the change in her attitude, and Fllay seemed much more at ease, like a burden had been lifted off her shoulders. Their easiness was infectious; everyone else seemed so much more relaxed, and for the first time laughter was heard within the walls of the dining room.

Stellar was quick to hold on to Natarle when they all got up to leave, not giving her a chance to slip away. She was a bit resistant at first, making up excuses to leave while she was being dragged down the hallway towards the morning room with them, but as they reached the doors to the room she gave up her struggle, accepting the fact that her efforts were in vain.

She was placed between Stellar and Fllay on the long sofa—more like being held hostage by her reluctant frown and the way the two girls each had one arm linked into hers on each side—while the younger cousins discussed animatedly the plans for the rest of the day. A few suggestions came up: to finish the tour around the house from where they left off yesterday, a short trip into the town area, or a long walk around the outer edges of the estate. In the end they settled for Stellar's idea, to spend some time at the lake, and have a picnic there for lunch.

"Luna," Fllay called to the young maid with magenta hair in the corner, who was waiting patiently all this time for any moment her service might be needed.

"Yes, Miss Fllay."

"I think we shall be going to the lake soon; will you please ask the kitchen to prepare the things needed for the picnic, and bring them to us for lunch?

"Yes, Miss Fllay," she answered dutifully with a quick curtsy and went off.

"So that's lunch settled. Do you think we shall change into something lighter, Stellar, since we will be by the waters and I doubt I will be able to restrain you from jumping right in the moment we get there? Dresses soaked with water are rather heavy and difficult to walk around in."

Mwu almost choked in his own laughter, his reaction a good confirmation that Fllay's words must have been a very fitting description of the girl. Stellar held her tongue out sheepishly and spoke quieter than usual, "Yes please, that would be nice."

"Good. Now let's all get changed. Shall we meet-"

"I- um…" Natarle broke Fllay's talk hesitantly, very aware that she might be ruining the cheery atmosphere. "I'd rather stay here. I have things that I need to take care of, and I'm not-"

"Natarle, come with us, _please_. Stellar would really like you to be there." Stellar had cut the woman's words short with a plea, her cherry coloured eyes gleaming like a lost puppy's. She must have hit a soft spot with that dejected look, because judging by the slight slump of Natarle's shoulder, Stellar's had succeeded in convincing her cousin join them.

o-o-o

The lake was a perfect spot for a picnic: the waters were clear and tranquil, like a sheet of azure had been laid down as its cover; there were a few trees on one side of the lake, providing just enough shade to balance out the brightness of the sun.

Just as Fllay had predicted, Stellar had ran—as fast as her scrawny legs could carry her—ahead of them towards the lake, but had stopped just by its side and knelt down, dipping her hand into the water for a feel of it. She got up again, and pulled her white ankle-length sundress by its hem up to her knees and tied it into one huge knot, then slowly walked into the lake, deliberately kicking waves into the water with her each step.

Fllay pursued after her, tying up her pink coloured frock the same way Stellar did as she reached the lakeside, and gave a delighted gasp as she dipped her feet into the water. She twirled around to wave at the rest of them who were only just about to reach the lake. "Come, quickly! This is so wonderful!"

"It does seem very pleasant, doesn't it?" Mwu said, holding his chin while his blue eyes looked expectedly at Murrue, "Shall we go join them?"

"I don't see why not," she replied. "Arnold, are you coming?"

"No thank you, not too fond of getting myself wet," he waved them off, "The shade over there looks rather nice, I think I'd prefer that."

He had taken off his jacket as he went over to the trees on the side, and sat down to rest under its shade. He closed his eyes. It was very comfortable here, just as he had expected it to be: he could feel the day's warmth in the air, but the shades had prevented the sun from heating up the ground too much for it to feel hot; the faint splashes of the water along with the bird's singing made a great symphony of nature, and the occasional drifts of wind felt like breezes of life itself. All that was missing was a good book in his hands, and his day would be complete.

When he opened his eyes again he found not far next to himself the woman with short black hair, knees drawn up and arms wrapped around them protectively, staring at the group of four frolicking in the water; those yearning eyes made him wonder why she would not just go in and be together with them, when there was nothing stopping her.

"Would you not care to join them? They seem to be having a good time."

"No. I'm… not accustomed to… _this_." Her last word sounded forced, and Arnold did not know what to refer it to for it to make sense—the people, or the lake? If she was not interested in either, then why the look?

It reminded him of the day before where she was in the library—like a captive bird, longing to be liberated—but suddenly there was this eerie feeling stirring inside of him, taunting him that with or without those glass windows, she would never be able to break free. Whatever that was holding her back was holding her strong, like a cage only she can see, its boundaries only known to her, but real enough for her to know how hopelessly pointless it would be for her to even dream to be free.

How sad it looked, the woman alone and deserted, sitting there curled up against herself. He felt the need to talk to her, keep her company, as if it was his responsibility for being the only person here sitting next to her under the shades. Funny, he was not a compassionate person to begin with, _even_ if he were to evaluate himself most leniently—the pleasantry he normally offered was just an impression he'd make to ensure his name stayed on people's good side—and he would usually much rather mind his own business than probing into other people's. But she was different; she made him _want_ her to see him, to know him, just like how he wanted to know her and be near to her, and it was the most peculiar sensation he had ever felt. He edged closer, and was just about to speak when he heard a cry of her name; it was Stellar, waving ferociously towards their direction from where she stood in the lake. "Natarle, come!"

She sprung into a state of alertness—like how a startled kitten would when its mother was away—and would have hidden already if there was somewhere for her to hide. "No… thank you. I'd rather stay here."

"You must come join us, this feels so lovely! Stellar doesn't want Natarle to miss it!" Her voice was so sweet and bubbly that anyone else would have gone straight to her in a heartbeat, but Natarle sat still, both hands waving with uncertainty. "I don't-… I really shouldn't."

"_Please_," The young blonde held her hand out, still in mid-air, reaching like she wanted to hold Natarle's own; her energetic laugh fell into a softer smile, but with so much more sincerity that it was heart-warming. "Trust Stellar, it's most wonderful. Natarle will love it."

Natarle pondered for a moment, looking down with an unconvinced frown then back up again at Stellar, and finally got up from her seat. She carefully pulled up her lilac dress, revealing her slender, flawlessly white legs, and held the mass of fabric in one arm as she walked towards the girl, held her hand, and stepped in. The sun shone on her, and with her back turned towards him, she had become a shadow from where Arnold looked, like a silhouette that glowed around the edges, wrapped in a very visible aura that gave her an unearthly form. He was awestruck, captivated by how exquisite it looked, this whole scene put together like a goddess had come to the Earth and about to make this lake her bath.

There were so many different hers, every single one entrancing him like a spell; effortless and unintentional, but she captures his attention fiercely like how flowers capture butterflies, and she holds onto his thoughts tenaciously like how trees' roots holds onto the earth, and he feels this deep, unshakable necessity to be close to her, understand her and care for her. And at that precise moment he realised he was, in fact, spellbound—he was falling in love with a woman he barely knew anything about.

o-o-o

Lunamaria had come down to the lake with the picnic baskets with just the right timing. They had all heard Mwu's stomach growl—so loud that the unsuspecting person would have thought a bear cub was lost nearby—and he fell to the grass on his back, legs still in the water, arms stretched out as he yelled, "I'm hungry!"

"I have brought lunch, Sir," came a cheery voice above him, and he decided whoever it was that spoke must be his guardian angel. "Luna, you are an angel! You must have heard my prayers and came to save my life!"

"I'm afraid I cannot take credit for that, Sir," the young maid smiled teasingly with the most innocence she could feign. "It was Mr. Halberton who had asked me to bring this here now; he thought you might like to have lunch earlier. I'm only here to take care of the delivery."

Mwu's face fell, disturbed by the thought of his guardian angel being a grown man, and his two friends clearly must have read his mind as one was now trying to hide his sniggers, and the other was whispering to Fllay's ear, the young girl unable to hold back her laughter.

"What is it?" Stellar queried as she sat down with Natarle into a circle with the others, both of them still oblivious to what was happening. "Tell Stellar, what is it?"

"Apparently Mr. Halberton is Mwu's new guardian angel. He must have heard Mwu's stomach grumbling all the way from the house and sent Luna here with our lunch," Arnold commented with his hand in a fist and the thumb pointing out towards the basket next to Lunamaria, looking at Mwu with a genuinely—well, as genuine as he could fake it—touched expression. Stellar burst into laughter, and even Natarle, unable to hold her straight face, had to look the other way to hide her uncontainable chuckle from Mwu.

'_So she laughs too,'_ Arnold noted, but was distracted by Mwu's finger poking onto his shoulder. "A guest who mocks me in my own house, what shall I do with him, _Neumann_?"

"Mwu, play nice," Stellar warned, though not very compelling as her giggling had yet to subside. "Besides, it is rather funny! Stellar can't wait to tell Mr. Halberton about it!"

"Yes, particularly with that dreamy look on his face when he saw Luna with the basket," Murrue added, the corner of her lips curling into a teasing smile.

"Murrue! Not you too? Oh come on, I already know I can't win this one, must you rub it in?" Mwu complained, a childish pout appearing on his face that spoke of a message only she understood, and had sent her quickly back into laughter. She wiped the tears in the corner of her eyes, and there were exchanged glances between her and the two men. Then Arnold raised his arms into the air, "Truce."

It was obvious from the expressions on their faces that none of the three girls understood what was going on, so Mwu explained. "We've known each other for years. I don't think I've ever mentioned this to you; Arnold and I went to the same school, and we've been close friends since. As for Murrue, she's childhood friends with Arnold, so eventually I got to know her when I visited him. And it's difficult, you know, when the three of us banter, because there can only be two sides in a fight, and the third person will always have to pick a side. But alliances will never stay for long, and fights will always have to end somewhere; it's just that we know what makes us comfortable with each other. We've come to understand each other so well that we can converse by more than words; with glances, gestures, hints, reading each other without having to say things out loud."

"That's very sweet," Fllay said, "It's just like what siblings do."

"Well, yes. But I wouldn't say it's anything too unexpected though; after all, we've known each other for a very long time."

"Stellar knows Mwu had mentioned about Arnold and Murrue before, but Mwu's never told us how close you three were," Stellar said curiously. "Wouldn't it have been lovely if we had the chance to meet with them sooner?"

"Yes, I would have, if I could, but you know things were different back then when-" Mwu stopped abruptly mid-sentence, then with the frustration of someone who had been caught unawares he scratched the back of his head. "Never mind. It's nothing. At least everyone's enjoying themselves now!"

His tried to lighten the mood again, unquestionably conscious of how he made a wrong turn along the way and was now brought to uneasy grounds. But the effect he hoped for didn't come, and the space surrounding them had turned heavy by the silence his words brought to his three cousins.

Fllay stirred a bit in her seat, sensing that the silence was so painfully there that it made the guests uncomfortable. "Well, shall we eat now; I thought we were all hungry? What would you like, Murrue? Let's see, we've got sandwiches, scones, oh look, a cake too! How lovely!"

She kept talking and Lunamaria, knowing exactly what her duty was here, took the food out from the basket and served them around. The atmosphere started to regain its liveliness, but Arnold could still feel that undertone of perturbation, that unsettledness in the air, unseen like dust, but nonetheless there. He could not figure out what exactly it was in Mwu's words that went wrong; he had an idea, a clear one at that, that he must have been meaning the times before now—maybe when Muruta was around, or earlier? But what was it that made even brushing the brim of that matter so intolerable? Fllay had once warned him too, that they would not talk about that man unless absolutely necessary, and now with this small commotion, he could not help but wonder if there was more to the story than they have told.

But he was not allowed the time to ponder on this question, his attention was quickly demanded by those sitting around him. They ate and they joked, and all thoughts and queries Arnold held about the issue were cast far away until he had time for them again.

Immediately after lunch Murrue asked Natarle to take a walk with her, a chance she had been waiting for ever since she arrived here. Fllay asked to join, as if she could already foresee how challenging it could be to get her stubborn sister to participate in a conversation like how normal people do.

"Enjoy yourselves, my ladies. And Fllay, take care of them two for me, will you?" Mwu winked to the younger cousin, who gave an equally playful wink back.

Natarle scowled at him, "I don't need any taking care of; I can manage-"

"Let's go!" Fllay pulled her sister by her arm, her other in Murrue's as they walked, not letting Natarle stay behind to protest against Mwu's suggestion any further.

Stellar laughed as she watched the trio go, and lowered herself beside Mwu by the lake, the two started talking quietly between themselves, their faces more serious than they usually were, most probably discussing about the events that happened earlier. Arnold decided there would be no place for him in this conversation, so he went back to the shades under the trees.

He chose a different tree this time, this one giving him a better view of the manor, and to his satisfaction, also the route the three young women took for their walk. The tree was enormous, the roots thick and entangled, reaching above the ground and served nicely as his new armchair. He sat down, but then he felt something bulging in his seat; something stiff, pointed, and it made him rather uncomfortable. He edged out from his seat and turned to see what the offending object was, and to his surprise he found a book hidden in the small hole under the tree's roots. He managed to pull the book out with little effort; it was not exactly a book, as there was no title on its leather cover, but only a faint golden line that trimmed along the outer edges as decoration. Having dusted off the specks of soil on its cover he turned it over, and found marked on its flyleaf two letters—'M.H.'. He flipped a few pages, and he realised it was not a book but a diary; not a very often updated one it seemed, as the entry dates jumped—sometimes between days, sometimes even weeks. And he saw names come up rather often; names of the people who belonged in the manor, names he had become acquainted with—names which meant whoever wrote this diary lived amongst them. A thought sprung into his mind: this may be where he should be looking into if he wanted to know more about Dominion Hall and its occupants. He knew it was not proper, but whoever left the diary here might not have realised yet, and given it was he who found the item now, what was the harm in him being a nice person and find its owner to return it to? He hid the book under his jacket, resting his back onto the tree casually as if nothing had happened, and a triumphant grin crept up to his face—he shall have a good read when he got back to his room tonight.

o-o-o

On the way back to Dominion Hall Natarle seemed to be in a good mood, with a small smile that stayed on her lips as she watched the two younger girls skipping on merrily in front of her. But the closer they reached the house, the more her smile dropped, replaced by an air of anxiousness, as though there was something awaiting her return but she was not ready for it. When they almost reached the backside of the house, she looked up to the mass of windows and bricks, her attention panning slowly from the centre of the mansion towards the abandoned West Wing, with that unique sadness back in those beautiful violet irises.

"Is something wrong?" Arnold asked.

Her answer didn't come immediately, no; there was this pause, even though silent it felt so grave, so burdensome, that seemed it could drag everyone who heard it down into the depths of her nostalgia. "The West Wing. It's closed off; you know that, don't you?"

"Yes. Fllay had mentioned that to us."

"Good." She said nothing further, but her eyes said everything; full of longing, like she would rather be there than anywhere else—like over there, on that empty side of the house, in all its desolation and darkness, was where she truly belonged.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note<strong>

Have done a bit of tweaking to two of the previous chapters (Prologue and ONE) so that readers get to know immediately whose point of view it is for those two chapters. I hope this makes it less confusing.

Any chance I can have a review or two?


	7. THREE

**THREE**

Father was sick. Very sick. His fever never stopped, and he was always coughing. It was consumption, the doctor told them—he must have caught during that trip some time ago—and it would not be much longer for him. Weeks, at most, but there was no guarantee.

Mama was devastated when she heard the news. After a maid had shown the doctor his way out from the drawing room, she fell into the sofa, covering her tired face with her hand. "No, _please_. Not for a second time."

She sat beside and held her Mama's hand; not knowing what to say she decided just to keep silent.

"Don't tell Fllay yet, Natarle. She's not ready for it."

She nodded to Mama in agreement, glad that her little sister had been sent to play in the garden when the doctor came so she hadn't heard any of this. Mama reached her hand out and brushed against her cheek tenderly, something she would do when either of them needed the comfort.

She understood Mama's worries—what irreparable damage could be done for the truth of a father's death to be thrown at his unsuspecting child; they had both experienced it first-hand, and they were not going to let it happen again. Not for their precious Fllay. They would let her keep seeing Father, give them some time together every day, and tell her the truth one bit at a time along the way, so she could take time to let it sink in.

o-o-o

There was a letter in the post, for Father. He sat up in his bed to read it, and when he was finished, he read it again from the start, making sure he made no mistake of its contents.

When he was finally done with reading, he let out a relieved sigh. Carefully he folded the letter together along its original crease, and slipped it back into the envelope. "Take this with you, after I've gone, and bring it to Dominion Hall—just in case, but I suspect you won't really be needing it. My father has made a promise to take care of you three."

Mama refused to take the letter Father handed to her. "George, we will manage perfectly well here. We don't have to go anywhere."

"Ellie, I had promised to take care of you and Natarle the day you agreed to marry me, and I would like to keep my promise, even after I die. There will be people there to look after you, you won't have to worry about anything. And Fllay will have a good life there, my father will love her dearly, I promise."

"George-"

"Please. Don't make me go back on my word."

Taking the parchment with a tentative hand, Mama spoke slowly, "We will go to Dominion Hall then." She planted a kiss on his forehead, and turned around to head for the door. Natarle got up from her seat, held her Father's hand firmly but briefly, and went after her Mama who was waiting at the door. With a _click_ the door was opened, and a bundle of red rushed into the room towards the bedside.

"Fllay, take good care of your Papa, yes? But remember not to get too close."

"Yes, Mama!" came the small, enthusiastic voice, and Mama closed the door behind her.

A weighty sigh was heard, and Natarle found her Mama leaning onto the wall beside the door as if she had just been through the trial of her lifetime.

"What is it, Ma?"

She made a queer laugh through her nasal, more like a snub but without the hostility, and it sounded like she was pitying herself; that, was something her Mama would never do.

"We will be living with Frederick Allster then."

"Fllay's grandfather?"

"Yes. And he hates me."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Fllay had coped with Father's death fairly well; there was plenty of crying and acting up from the girl during the immediate few days—of course there was, what else was to be expected from a six-year-old? But she had accepted the fact, and she stopped as soon as she got tired of feeling the grief. After all, she was well prepared by her mother and sister for this moment.

And so they packed everything they needed, sent away the servants, and left the house, headed for Dominion Hall as promised. The journey took rather long, and when they arrived at their destination, there was only Lewis and Erica standing at the entrance to welcome them, and also a footman and a maid waiting by the side to help with the heavier duties.

"Mr. Halberton, Mrs. Simmons," Mama greeted them. She hadn't looked at her surrounding in the same fascinated manner her two children did; there was a certain sense of familiarity in her voice that hinted she had already been here before. "It's been a long time."

"Yes it has, ma'am," He bowed courteously on behalf of the staff, with a small restrained smile to follow; the expression hinted he was good terms with Mama, but he had probably thought it was inappropriate for show.

"Frederick… Where is he?"

"Sir Frederick would like you all to meet him in the drawing room once you've settled."

"He would like to meet with us?" Mama sounded surprised.

"Yes ma'am. That is what he had instructed."

She stood unmoving, staring at Lewis in an attempt to decipher from his blank face if there were any hidden connotations she should be but was unable to read. The man's face, however, betrayed nothing.

"Right. Well then, we can't have him waiting forever. Will you show us our rooms then?"

o-o-o

The drawing room was a beautiful room, nothing like Natarle had seen before, a grandeur unexplainable by words. The walls and the drapes, the furniture and the ornaments; all put together most harmoniously, nothing more, nothing less, every single detail the perfect complement to the whole effect. The house itself—she could not believe there were real houses as this—so huge, so magnificent, so surreal, like the castles she would hear of only in stories and myths, and the house they lived in with Father dwarfed in comparison. No wonder why he said it was merely a 'small cottage'.

She was supposed to sit with Mama to wait for Frederick—_'Grandfather'_, she repeated the foreign word in her head—but Fllay was excited and fidgety, and had refused to stay in her seat. Dragging her sister with her wherever she went, the red-haired girl had stopped in front of the fireplace, sat at the piano, opened the doors to the balcony, and been at just about every other corner of the room.

_Click_. The sudden sound alerted the three occupants that someone had arrived, and they all froze in their places. The door opened; quite like how they would normally open—swiftly, easily—but it felt like time had been pulled long enough for an eternity as they waited to see the person behind the door to be revealed.

It was first Lewis who came to their sight, opening the door then stepping aside for the person behind him to enter. The man strode in, standing tall and straight, in a manner that anyone would have understood he was the master of the house with one glance. He had an air of arrogance, so very natural to him as if he was born with it, but at the same time he gave a feel of loss—with those deep-sat and dulled grey-blue orbs he looked like a person who have had too much taken from him that he simply gave up on believing in happiness.

"Frederick," her tone hesitant, like a young child waiting to be punished, Mama greeted the man. When he didn't make any sound, she continued, "This is Natarle, my oldest."

"Grandfather," Natarle dipped her head down in a polite manner, yet still no reply from him. She looked at him, hoping for some kind of response, however small, that meant he at least acknowledged her, but he never turned to look, his cold and blank stare not even flinching. And she understood, because Mama had already cautioned her about this. He would not look because he did not see her, because to him she was not there, transparent and weightless, as irrelevant as the dust in the air. She turned her attention to Mama, and found her looking back at her with a rueful smile.

"Where is the child?" Frederick spoke abruptly.

Mama pursed her lips, a sign she had known this would happen, and had not wanted it to at the same time. "Fllay," she called.

From behind Natarle the small figure peeked out, afraid of what was waiting for her. She managed a quick glimpse of the old man in the middle of the room and hid again, clutching onto the fabric of Natarle's skirt as her shelter. All was silent, and she came out once more to take another look, this time more daringly, looking the man in the eye with odd interest.

Frederick's eyes grew wide, the arrogance and calmness in them lost in a split moment. "Elysse. My child, my dear child! Come here!"

The man who was purged of all emotion just a while ago was on the contrary so full of it now, such a brusque change that Natarle would have thought they were two different people if she had not seen it with her own eyes. His voice was desperate—the voice of someone who had been waiting forever, hanging onto that last string of hope, and finally seeing it come true. Fllay let out a whimper and pulled hard onto her sister's skirt, and Natarle had to wrap her arm around the child to calm her.

"Come to me, _Elysse_!"

She was on the brim of tears. Looking up to her sister for reassurance, she cried, "I am not Elysse! I'm Fllay, my name is Fllay!"

"Yes, you are Fllay," Natarle bent down to meet her eye, stroking her hair gently. "Of course you are."

"Fllay," Frederick called, allowing the name trail in the air until he could feel its genuineness. "_Fllay_. Come, Fllay, let your grandfather have a good look at you."

With her mind still spinning in confusion Fllay turned towards the vague direction of Mama with the most perplexed expression on her face. When she finally found her focus, she saw Mama smile—the kind of smile with her brows kitted together, that it was clear she was not truly happy but had no choice other than to accept. "It's alright, Fllay. You can go to your grandfather; he won't hurt you."

Fllay immediately looked back at her sister for one last confirmation, then slowly, in small footsteps she dragged herself towards the man waiting for her across the room.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Time had passed quicker than they were aware of, and soon came summer, marking the fifth month of their new life in Dominion Hall.

Summer was the time when the Allster family members would return to visit, as told by Lewis—at least they used to, but it was all different now, due to Frederick's self-isolation and the ill relationship between him and his children. So now, only the grandchildren came; no summer balls, no garden parties, no fancy dinners, no longer the same vivacious, glamorous place it used to be.

Mwu was the first to arrive. Older than Natarle by two years, he was a young man who was confident yet carefree, and very friendly to everyone, even the servants. His charisma was what made him shine, his easy attitude made everyone around him want to _be_ around him. Natarle had never met anyone like him—though she has never really met many people, as there never was the opportunity for her to anyway—and she was caught in amazement. How did one ever find so much good in a world like this? And soon enough she discovered that he had her utmost respect; standing next to him would make her feel so inadequate, as if the years she had lived was a disappointment to the world, yet he would always try to cheer her up, and help her with any troubles she had—he was good guidance, like a brother but not quite as close, nonetheless a fine replacement for Papa and Father as someone she could look up to. His presence was therefore a lovely addition to the generally unexciting days Mama and she had, particularly with Fllay preoccupied by Grandfather's devoted attention and away for most of the time.

It displeased Natarle immensely how Grandfather had monopolized Fllay's time ever since their arrival; he would take her into town for new clothes, to the lakeside for a stroll, or in the study to keep him entertained while he attended to matters of the estate. Mama and Natarle then became her second priority, and they only got to see the girl at mealtimes—because Frederick had always preferred to dine alone—or on the rare occasions when Grandfather needed time by himself. Fllay hadn't complained; she was content with the attention she was receiving, just like Father had expected, and the novelty of being treated like a princess of the castle never wore off. She had missed the closeness she once shared with Mama and Natarle, and she _did_ wish for more time with them, but the new life Grandfather offered her just had a stronger pull, Natarle supposed.

So it was just her and Mama for most of the time. It brought back memories, and with the memories came a certain comfort—that feel of intimacy, of seclusion and dependence she had felt during that little time after Papa and before Father, in the world where only Mama and her existed. But memories were memories, and there was always something at the moment that did not feel quite right—things she couldn't put a finger on, yet she knew there was no denying that they _were_ there; like a piece of white linen that had been washed too many times, immaculately clean at the first glance, but when you take a closer look, you would find small stains scattered across, and you would realise that the white was not a perfect white anymore.

Mwu was therefore a good distraction; she would have less time to spot those stains when there was something else to amuse her. Not that she was always amused though; he had the most irritating talent to put her in discomforting situations with his cheeky and straightforward way of talking, and she would sit there, red-faced and speechless, while the room rang with his and Mama's laughter. But he was a kind young man, Mama had observed, because he truly cared about those people around him. _"Go to him," _she remembered Mama saying, _"if you're ever in trouble and need help when I'm not here. He'll help you. He won't turn you away; it's in him."_

Why should she care though, now that Mama _was_ always here? She wasn't going anywhere—she did not have to work, like Papa did; she did not go on trips, like Father did; and she did not need to keep Grandfather's company, like Fllay did—so why would she need to worry about what happens when she was not around if she was never going away?

"_We can worry about that later, Ma."_ She recalled the tentative smile Mama returned when she replied, which she took to mean as her Mama's worries were eased for now.

And so she had that reminder locked away tightly somewhere in the depths of her mind; she would not be needing it soon, it can stay there till the day it may be of use. For now she would sit back and enjoy those quiet and delightful times with Mama and her new cousin.

o-o-o

"Hello," Mwu raised his hand casually at the two people in front of him in his usual manner of greeting familiar people. "I thought you two won't be coming this summer."

The two newly arrived were Muruta and Stellar, the older boy the new heir to Dominion Hall, the younger his beloved sister, a small girl around Fllay's age. The siblings shared the same childlike features—the face filled with innocent charm, pale blonde hair that shined like a halo, and skin as fair as porcelain dolls'. The only difference that stood out were the eyes; the brother had clear blue eyes, like Mwu's, only lighter in colour but duller in shine, and the sister's were of a peculiar deep pink, like rose, yet also like violet, and it glowed beautifully of a translucent naivety.

"Mwu," the girl spoke the single syllable; not in the way a child would when greeting others, it was more like she had recognised this person, and spoke the name only to confirm her speculation. Mwu smiled anyhow, and gave a light pat on the girl's head. "Hello, Stellar."

"Summer's not over yet. You're just here early," Muruta cut in impatiently, his face showing unabashed boredom and indifference. Stellar, on the other hand, was now looking around with inquisitive eyes, still trying to figure out her surroundings.

Mwu shrugged. "I've got nothing to do anyway. I thought I'd come here early to meet with Aunt Elizabeth and our two cousins." His thumb pointed to not far behind him where Natarle stood with her Mama, waiting patiently out of good manners.

Muruta took a quick glance, but completely ignored the need to introduce himself or his sister properly. "Two? I only see one. Unless that woman there is one of the sisters."

"No, she's Aunt Elizabeth, and that's Natarle. The younger one's Fllay, and she's with Grandfather."

A loud snort was heard, and Muruta's disdain was clear. "Oh, that old man's taken in a new pet?"

"_Muruta_." Mwu shushed his cousin.

The young man smirked with contempt, and took his sister's hand. "Come on Stellar, let's go. Won't want you mingling with _that_ kind."

There it was again. How easily that one simple but defined comment turned it all back around again. Ever since that very first meeting with Grandfather, the impression Natarle once felt that was lost for a long time had came back all in an instant, and this time, it was here to stay—they did not belong here, nor will they ever be truly welcomed here.


	8. 30th September

**30th September**

_I have decided to start writing this journal as I am afraid that one day I will lose hold of myself within this large, haunted manor. Not haunted, no, there are no real ghosts but only those of the mind, and of the past, yet those are precisely the ones I am afraid of. I should not be, as I have done no harm, and what had passed within the walls of this manor should not trouble me. But how can I expect not to be haunted when the very reason of my presence here is to chase this ghost? My dear sister is concerned for me, and even as she stays by my side everyday, she still fears she cannot grasp onto me tight enough, or catch me quickly enough if I drift away. Will I drift? Will I one day lose my real self and become another ghost of Dominion Hall?_

_I guess I am confused now, which is why I must write, just as Natarle had suggested me to. She had given me such invaluable advice: _'Write them down—these feelings of yours, memories, fears and dreams and everything else—with your own words, your own voice. Write them down to keep them alive forever, so nobody can take them away from you.'_ The wise words of a person who lives on books. And so I must._

_Natarle, she is the closest I have to a mentor here. I am still in awe of her, ever since the first day of my arrival here at Dominion Hall. Much different from what I had expected for a lady of such a grand house (though I must admit I was biased with my limited understanding of what real ladies should be like anyway): I was expecting her to be graceful and delicate, dressed in pretty gowns and wearing fabulous jewellery, and you would find her always with a smile on her face, with a slight tendency to exaggerate and a taste for drama; at times somewhat overbearing in matters of the house, maybe? But she is none of those. When I first met her I was shocked by her appearance; what kind of woman would wear her hair in such an unstylish short length if she wanted to be even just remotely attractive? Such a great pity, for she has a beautiful face; her features are delicate, yet her manners are not—though she could easily give this impression if she wished to, with those pretty violet eyes, rosy cheeks, and small, red lips—but her stare is strong, sometimes even cold, which I found frightening at first; her movement is graceful but also firm, lacking the distinctive softness of women. And she does not wear elaborate dresses or expensive jewellery; she is an unpretentious person, and so is her dress sense. Her voice is usually bold without the slightest bit of hesitation, but occasionally also soft and shy, especially when she tries to comfort me, despite the awkwardness in her attempts. And she has a kind heart; although she is stern to almost everyone, I can see she has the trust and loyalty of the household staff—if one didn't know well enough, one would most certainly mistaken that she was the rightful owner of Dominion Hall. _

_There is also Stellar; such a beautiful gem she is. She has the features of a porcelain doll: shiny blonde hair, fair and supple skin, and a petite stature that makes her all the more lovely to look at. And she has the sweetest laugh! To hear her laughter is like hearing music, brightening even the gloomiest days; and her innocence and kindness is warm enough to meld any troubled spirit. Life in Dominion Hall would be so different without her; it would become dreary and pale, and just imagining it makes me miserable!_

_And Fllay. Oh, she is so mysterious! What can I say about her? If Stellar were the rays of morning light, then she has the colours of a setting sun; so attractive that even in silence she draws your attention like fire does for a moth. And I must say this, as it struck me the first moment I saw her, and I envy her for it: her red hair has such a beautiful shine! So lustrous and voluminous, so soft to the touch, unlike mine, which is coarse and dull; how I wish I had hair like hers! Oh, we are alike in so many ways, yet very different all the same time. My sister adores her, and she thinks we could get along well. If Fllay could just see me as I am, I believe we would be such great friends! _

_I must go now, for I haven't been here for long and there is still much I must learn. I will write again when I have the time. _


	9. The Library

**The Library**

Arnold closed the diary. Running his palm against its cover, he let his questions flow freely in and out of his mind, catching a thought to dwell on for a moment and letting it go again when he figured he had reached another dead end.

His first impression was that it must have been written by a young woman, or maybe only a girl, but definitely female—the neat slant in the penmanship, the tonality, where the observations were directed towards, and the admiration—everything hinted the owner as an authoress. He could not, however, figure out who she was; from the way she spoke of the three young woman, calling them by their names without 'Miss' or 'Ma'am' or any other formalities, she would most probably very close to them. But who else was there, other than them three? Who was the sister she spoke of, and what was their relationship with the family? And the ghosts, the drifting, and the things she has to learn?

The only solid clue he has so far was the initials 'M.H.', the rest were guesswork. Never mind, it was still early days, and he knows he will find time for the other entries; hopefully he will be able to decipher it all before its rightful owner discovers that he has the diary.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

He had not yet decided what he would like to do today. With them having been here for almost a week already, Stellar and Fllay had decided to let the guests explore the estate by themselves a bit and choose for themselves what they would enjoy most here; it was simply impractical to make plans for all of them as one entity, for every single day, and for the rest of the summer. So Arnold took his time, pondering as he sat on the couch in the drawing room and flipped through the newspaper, how to make use of the free time given to him.

The garden would have been a good choice, if Mwu and Murrue had not already taken the first right to the place. Those two were off by themselves again, leaving Arnold to his own device—much more frequently now than every that made him wonder when those two would do what was meant to be done. It wasn't any of his business really, but the dragging on did sometimes make him so impatient that he would, _if_ he could, make those two admit the already obvious.

Fllay and Stellar were out in town for some shopping, which they had not done for a long time. _"Girls must keep up with the latest fashion, and the best way to do it is go out and see for oneself,"_ they spoke to him in a mock seriousness. They had invited him to tag along, but a clever enough man would know how that would end, so he turned them down politely, and they knew better than to insist.

Natarle did not go with them. She was not interested in these kinds of things, Fllay told him—_"She could have been, if things had turned out different,"_ Stellar had muttered to herself quietly, a reminiscence not meant for him to hear—hence only once in a very long while, and with plenty of coaxing, would she decide to join them.

And now she was nowhere to be seen. She must have slipped out of the room sometime earlier when they were not noticing, so that she need not trouble herself with making excuses to avoid being in their company. He could not fathom why she was so wary of Murrue and him; was it because they were outsiders and she did not trust them enough to let them closer, or was it simply because she did not like them? The latter seemed rather unlikely though, given how she had warmed up to them considerably since yesterday; but if it was for precaution, why the need for it? What was it that she wanted to protect? Was it the very same that had her persistently enveloped in that bitter solitude?

He wanted to know. Falling in love with this woman despite her being a complete mystery to him made him feel vulnerable, and vulnerability was a feeling he did not come across often, nor did he like it one bit. The uncertainty, the incomprehensibility, the sheer simplicity of how little he knew; it all reaffirmed him how limited control he had in this relationship—was it even that yet, something lucid enough to be definable as such? No, no it was not. And he knew what he had to do.

He tossed the newspaper aside and got up, knowing exactly where his next destination was.

o-o-o

He came to a stop in front of the doors, and looking back down the corridor, he was pretty sure this was the right place. There were not many rooms on this floor, and these were the only two facing the garden. Of the two rooms the other one was too far towards the end of the corridor to be the one he saw last time, so this must be the one he was looking for, the library Fllay told him about.

Arnold turned the handle as lightly as he could manage, hoping not to frighten its occupant with his unexpected arrival. The library gradually revealed itself, the musty scent of old books that filled the room rushed towards him as he opened the doors, and like the rest of the house, it was a beautiful place. The walls were bookshelves reaching all the way to the high ceiling, and every single compartment was filled neatly with books. To his right hand side was a set of sofas and armchairs near the end of room where the fireplace was; on the other side were a writing desk, some large decorative pieces, a few odd chairs, and a long table that reached towards the window at the corner of the room. There, at the end of the table beside the window, was where he found her.

Natarle had her back facing towards him; with the carpet beneath him soaking in the sounds of his footsteps as he walked up to her, she did not realise that there was now someone else in the room. Arnold stopped a few steps away from her, and decided this was the perfect distance; she sat by the window, one arm propped up on the table supporting her chin in the palm of her hand, her other hand resting comfortably on the wooden surface where a book was laid open but unread—she was focused elsewhere, outside the window into the distance—the winds pulled in through the open window, drawing the sheer curtains into a synchronized movement with the breezes, like they were a veil that was her protection, separating her and her sphere of serenity from the outside world. Here in her world of stillness, the gloom usually surrounding her had vanished, and she was comfortable and content; a warm satisfaction emerged inside of him, the delight stemming from his new discovery of this unseen side of her.

He stood and watched; how much time had passed? Five minutes? Ten? He lost track, but it wouldn't have made a difference; he did not want to disturb this tranquillity—there was something sinful about breaking this silence, shattering her moment of peace and his dreamscape, because there were some moments and sentiments so magical, so unique, that he knew it would only happen once in a lifetime. He found himself torn between two conflicting desires: he wished to relish this peaceful moment for as long as time allowed him, but at the same time, he craved to enter this private world she created only for herself. His desires warred against each other, but soon enough he was certain which one was to win—his need to make his presence known and to speak to her had deepened as each second ticked by, irrepressible and intolerant, and he could no longer hold back.

"Natarle."

He took the liberty of calling her by her name, the first time he had ever spoken those three syllables, and the taste of her name on his lips felt strange; foreign, yet pleasing, and it lingered like the savour of a good wine.

She spun herself around in a flash, eyes wide open indicating her surprise; he was too, by the frankness of her expression—pure and simple, with a touch of naivety he had never seen before, it had nothing of the defence she would normally put up to widen the distance between herself and others—and although it stayed only for one brief moment, this moment alone seemed to him like frozen time, letting him dwell for as long as he needed to forever remember this rare innocence.

"Mr. Neumann, is there something I can help you with?" She finally broke the silence. Her surprise turned into a questioning frown, and he was not sure if it meant she did not want him here or she was simply puzzled by his appearance.

"Call me Arnold, please. I'm not keen on formalities," he said, offering a smile to ease her scepticism. "Fllay told me that there is an excellent collection of books here, so I thought I'd come by to find some good night-time reading."

Those scrutinizing violet eyes softened at the mention of books, showing her approval of his pursuit. He was now convinced he had at least one common interest shared with her, something that could let him start a conversation without the dangers of stepping cross hidden boundaries.

"Mr. Neumann-" She said, but had stopped abruptly, unable to continue; the suggestive stare he sent her way had well reminded her of his request. Struggling to comply, she spoke again most cautiously, and his name came out like chopped pieces severed by her uncertainty. "A-Ar-nold."

"Yes?" His lips pulled uncontrollably into a wide smile.

"What… what kind of books do you like?"

"Hmm, suspense, maybe? Oh, I do rather like gothic fiction. Detective stories and biographies sometimes; I'm not too choosy with books—as long as they're tolerable. Any good ones you'd recommend?"

Natarle stared at him for a while, thinking, and the look of her in serious thought was as endearing to him as all the other expressions he had only managed a glimpse of so far. He secretly relished this sight as she continued with her thoughts, then as if she had just hit a realisation she looked down to the table, closed the book laid in front of her and handed it to him. "You might like this one."

Arnold took the book into his hands. It was a very old book; the leather cover was all worn and parts of its copper-coloured ink lettering had been rubbed off, the ridges of its papers were yellow and frayed, and it gave the impression that it had been read too many times. "'The Black Howling Winds'," he read its title off the cover, "I must say, the title alone sounds interesting enough. Are you sure you'd lend it to me? I thought you were in the middle of it."

"It's alright, I've read it already; many times, in fact, so there's no rush in returning it."

So that explains the tattiness of it. "It must be a very good book then, for you not to tire of it even after so many reads."

"There are other reasons-" She paused mid-sentence, and decided she did not owe him the explanation she was about to give. "Yes, it is a good book."

Other reasons? The question briefly dashed across his mind, but he decided against thinking about it too much; right now he had other plans. Eyeing the seat opposite her across the table, he walked over and rested his hand on the back of the chair. "Would you mind if I sat here?"

A stunned look sprung onto her face, then a blush, her eyes wandering away from him to hide her shyness. "No- I… I don't. Of course you may sit here… if you like."

"Thank you, Natarle."

And thus began a quiet, uneventful, yet wondrous afternoon, with only books, the summer breeze, and each other as their company.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note<strong>

Sorry I took a while to get this chapter up… I just wasn't sure if anyone's still reading this story (because to be honest, 3 reviews in 8 chapters is _quite_ discouraging), and since there's a bunch of stuff happening in real life, I thought I should probably focus on those instead. I must admit at one point I actually forgot about having to upload a new chapter… Thanks to Aya for reminding me!

So, just one small detail about this chapter that I want to mention: _The Black Howling Winds_ is not a real book, but something I made up—dedicated to BlackHowls, my first friend ever on FFnet. Not sure if she comes to this site anymore though… BlackHowls, if you're reading this by any chance, just wanted to say hi! Hope you're doing great!

**To Aya: **Thanks so much for your review! You're actually correct to say that the story's got that 'multi-layered Victorian-setting plot' vibe to it, because that's exactly what I'm going for! It's my favourite genre of fiction. :) If that's your thing too, I hope my story won't disappoint.


	10. FOUR

**FOUR**

For some reason Mama was growing weaker by the day. She lost appetite, and naturally her weight along with it. Her skin paled so much it almost seemed grey, and no matter how long she spent in the sun it was not enough to give back her rosy complexion. She tired easily, yet could not sleep well. Headaches came often, and when they did she couldn't go anywhere but stay in her bed, resting the whole day away.

She should have noticed something was wrong with Mama earlier, but whenever she asked Mama if she was alright she would casually dismiss her worries, and never once did she think to doubt Mama when she smiled that convincing smile of hers. That was something she would forever regret in her later life.

The doctor's occasional visits became regular, and then more than frequent; when Mama began seeing the doctor almost every other day, she knew there was no hope in her condition. Doctor Clyne was a very kind and patient person, and although his help was not enough to cure Mama, he tried his best to ease her pain. For that, they were both thankful. But his kindness did not mean he would give them false hope; he had made it very clear that Mama's time was scarce. Mama was grateful though, that there was at least still time; she had asked Natarle to stay with her whenever she could, because she wanted every second of her remaining life to be meaningful, for there to be something she could cherish and hold on to till the very last moment.

But Mama had promised she would not leave her. She had _promised_.

o-o-o

It was ridiculous that Fllay was still not back at this hour. How could Grandfather be so cruel, to keep her away when Mama was in this condition? He knew very well that it was all to end in these few days; Fllay had told him after they sat with Dr. Clyne the other day.

"Ma," she asked as she brushed the wet lock of hair away from Mama's sweaty forehead. "How are you feeling? Is it still hurting?"

"I'm fine, Natarle. You worry too much." Mama was wearing that comforting smile she always had for her, only though now it had lost all its effects.

How could she not worry when Mama was slowly slipping away? She let out a heavy, restrained sigh—the kind that made her throat hurt and left a bitter taste in her mouth. She felt her eyebrows pushing together into a frown, but no matter how hard she rubbed with her fingers she could not ease that tension.

"Come closer, darling," Mama reached her hand weakly towards her. "Let me see you."

She sat down cautiously on the bedside, trying not to let the extra weight of her sitting onto the mattress cause Mama any discomfort. "Closer," Mama urged, and she leant forward towards her. Mama raised her thin hand; not strong enough to place it where she wanted to—she barely managed to brush the ends of Natarle's dark long hair that hung near her waist—but Natarle knew what she meant to do and took her hand, herself moving even closer to let it rest against her cheek.

"Natarle, my sweetheart. I've always wanted to tell you this, but I never found the courage to. But I have to, before it's too late; before I leave you and lose the chance forever…" Every single word was a heavy task for Mama, and her normally assured voice trembled so much that Natarle could hardly recognise it if she had her eyes closed.

"Ma," Natarle said, her hand clutching tightly onto her Mama's.

"I'm so sorry, for all the hardships you have to go through," Mama continued. "I'm sorry that the choices your Papa and I made had brought you onto such a difficult path. But we never regretted it, and the time we had together was the best time of my life."

With every word Mama spoke, Natarle felt the stinging feeling in her eyes intensify, and there was this sharp, choking pain in her throat that made it more and more difficult to breathe. She knew could not speak without sounding strange, so she chose not to reply with words, only shaking her head quietly as consolation towards her Mama's apology.

"Your beautiful dark hair," Mama stroked lightly onto the dark silk against Natarle's shoulders, and laid back down her tired hand. "Just like your Papa's. You have his stubbornness too, but you try to hide it; you're so much like him. You and your Papa, you two are the best things that have ever happened to me. Natarle, I love you _so_ much."

_Papa_—the mention of him had ploughed a hole in her heart, drawing from the bottom of it emotions that were too much for her to handle. "Mama!" Her voice broke with the one word she uttered unconsciously, and the pain in her eyes was so unbearable that it finally released the well of tears she tried holding back.

Mama's eyed widened for a very brief moment, then returned back to their usual calmness, and she laughed to herself quietly while giving Natarle's hand a brief squeeze. "Say it again, Natarle," she asked. "You haven't called me that for a very long while. Say it again."

"Mama," she cried, tears flooding out freely, like all these years she had forgotten how to cry, and the sudden remembrance of the ability had caught her unawares that she did not know how to make it stop.

She had tried so hard to stop crying, but each time she attempted to swallow her anguish it would get stuck inside her throat, and the pain it brought only set free another flow of tears. Mama patiently wiped away her tears every time, caressing her cheek the way she always did whenever she needed the comfort. Slowly Mama's soothing began to sink into her, and her cries started subsiding into sobs, and then finally into small hiccups.

She wiped away the last tear with the back of her hand and looked at Mama with newfound sureness that brought a small smile back to her lips. Mama quietly took the silver pendant that hung around her neck and placed it into Natarle's palm. "Your Papa gave me this as our wedding gift, and it's yours now. Put it on for me."

Natarle took a long look at the shiny ornament, her hands trembling at the weight of its significance. She needed a great deal of effort to put it on, her jittery fingers struggled to open the clasp that even Mama, as weak as she was, managed without problem. When she finally had it adorned on herself, Mama ran her hand over it quickly, admiring how it complemented the girl so perfectly. "His name is Edward Badgiruel, Natarle. Remember your Papa, and remember that you are his child. Most people may know you only as Natarle Allster—even Fllay; she hasn't realised it yet, and she is too young to understand what it means—but you must always remember yourself as Natarle Badgiruel. Be proud that you are his child."

She nodded firmly, repeating Mama's words in her mind over and over again so she will never forget, and thus never break this promise, and Mama beamed with pride in her determinedness.

"And take care of Fllay, she needs you."

"I will, Mama," Natarle's replied, the quivering of her voice suppressed and steadied that every trace of her fears were removed from exposure.

And they sat in each other's company, hands held together, and everything else was quiet except for Mama's heavy breathing, gradually fading with the passing time. She was barely holding on, but still, only so that she could see her youngest child for once last time. They waited and waited, the bright daylight slowly dimming into colours of a crimson sunset, all the while Natarle was hoping to herself that Lewis would find her sister soon, because Fllay's last chance to see Mama might just slip away while she was busying herself elsewhere.

And then she heard it, the sound of a frantic set of footsteps and muffled cries getting gradually louder until it reached just outside the room, and the door burst open in a swing.

"Mama!" Fllay ran towards Mama, her eyes moist and distressed, and her hands grasping strongly onto Mama's the moment she reached her. "I'm sorry, Mama, I should have come earlier. I'm so sorry."

"It's alright, Fllay. I still get to see you now for one last time." Mama could barely make a voice now, only managing to speak in whispers and heavy breaths. "Be a good girl, listen to your sister."

"Mama-"

"I love you both, my darlings…"

That was the last smile Mama managed, and the weight on her eyelids finally overtook the strength she had left to keep them open; she let out her last breath, and quietly fell into eternal silence.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Without Mama, even passing time had become a difficult ordeal. Fllay was usually only able to be with her in the evenings, which left her with no company during the day. If Mwu were here that would have taken care of the problem, except he wasn't, since he only came to visit during summers, which the last summer was long gone and the next one still some time away.

So everyday, as if clockwork, it was breakfast, reading papers in the morning room, lunch, reading in the small parlour Papa's favourite book or the few which Father had bought her, afternoon tea, then to continue with her books or take a stroll around the estate until dinner was ready. Life was bland—like an eternity of waiting with no knowing where the end is—until the day Erica Simmons showed her the library.

She was sitting in the small parlour, Papa's book closed and placed on her lap after she had finished reading it—again; she had read it so many times that she had lost count. She could remember it all: the plot, the prose, the things its characters say, all the turning points and tiny details that gradually revealed the story. The book ceased bringing her the thrill it did the first time she read it; she still loved it, but she knew it too well, and there really was no point reading a book she already knew by heart.

Erica was serving her tea that day, and she must have noticed the boredom in Natarle's eyes as she stared at her book, sighing. "Miss Natarle, do you like that book a lot?" She asked when she handed the girl her tea, "I see you reading it all the time. And a few other titles, but that's all you ever read."

"Yes, they're all very good books, and I do like them very much. But I think I've read them too many times, and it's gotten rather unexciting."

"Why don't you read other books then?"

"I don't… have other books." She looked at the woman with a faint blush on her face, almost as if she was ashamed of saying it out. Erica had found it rather amusing, for there was no reason for feeling shame in something like this, yet her embarrassment made the girl more vulnerable than Erica had thought she was.

She had always liked Natarle, and was rather sympathetic to her circumstances. Of the many staff in Dominion Hall, only she and Lewis had been around long enough to know about the scandal that happened almost two decades ago; only them two were informed enough to be able to deduce the truth behind Natarle's origins. Despite that, she was good people, somewhat shy and uncertain of her place in the house, but she treated the staff well, and her respect and trust in them made them start looking up to her as the new mistress of the house, the person to go to when Frederick failed to respond to their queries—Elizabeth had taught her well. But if Elizabeth had not cut off her ties with her childhood friend and then-fiancée's family in order to marry Edward Badgiruel, Natarle might not have to suffer this rejection by her 'grandfather'. Now that Elizabeth was gone, this child was as good as abandoned.

Thank goodness Natarle was a sensible girl, and taking care of her was not at all difficult. She was never demanding; in fact, she always seemed hesitant when making requests, as if she was afraid to bother to them while being completely unaware of her new status—Erica even believed this may very well be the reason Natarle fell into this daily routine that involved no one else but herself. But she was still young—barely fourteen—and if life had already become boring for her so soon, what was she going to do with the days to come?

So when Erica heard Natarle confess for her lack of reading material, an idea came straight to her mind. "Miss Natarle, if you like reading, may I suggest you the library?"

The blank stare in Natarle's eyes made it clear for Erica that despite her two years of stay the girl had no knowledge of the said library.

"The library has a vast collection of books: literature, poetry, biographies, encyclopaedias; you will most certainly find something you like," Erica elaborated for her, and watched her violet orbs sparkle in eagerness, then strangely dimming again, as if there was something that made her feel uncertain this was a good idea.

"Is there something wrong, Miss Natarle?"

"Grandfather…" Natarle hesitated, until Erica nodded as an urge for her to continue, "Would it bother him if I used to the library?"

"I wouldn't think so; Sir Frederick doesn't use the library anymore. We still dust the place everyday, but other than that, nobody goes there."

Natarle sat up again in full attention, like a kitten waiting to be fed, and even without orders Erica knew exactly what to do. "Shall I show you the library after tea, Miss Natarle?"

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Natarle had fallen in love with the library the first moment she saw it. It was paradise; she could read as much as she liked, and need not worry about being a bother to anyone. Passing time was no longer a struggle, and in place of it a new problem presented itself—time passed too quickly now; when she was immersed in the world of books hours would fly past like minutes, and in a blink of eye it was time for another meal which she would have to put down whatever it was in her hands, and could only return to it after she had finished eating. No matter how much she read she could not get enough of it, and the only thing that could pull her away from her books was her dear little sister when she was finally freed from Grandfather's monopolization.

But today was one of the rare occasions when Grandfather had let Fllay free early, which was why Natarle was in a particularly good mood when Fllay had joined her for tea. Fllay was too, clinging tightly onto Natarle as the two sat together on the sofa, Fllay excitedly recounting her morning for her sister.

A small knock was heard, and the two turned towards the door which revealed a young girl with magenta-coloured hair dressed in a maid's outfit, holding a tea tray in her hands as she looked at them nervously. "Miss Natarle, Miss Fllay, I'm Lunamaria. Mrs. Simmons had… sent me to serve tea for you today."

Natarle nodded, indicating she had no problem with Erica's arrangement, but either Lunamaria was too nervous or too inexperienced that she made no move to start her work. Instead, she simply stood there awkwardly with a perplexed look on her face, all the while unable to take her eyes off the two occupants in the room.

When Fllay finally felt the stare, she looked towards the offender, eyeing the girl up and down and noted, "I've never seen you before. You're new."

"Y-yes, Miss Fllay…" Lunamaria stammered, "I've been here for a month."

"Alright then. Our tea, if you may," Fllay said offhandedly with disinterest in the newcomer, and quickly went back to talking with her sister.

There was a moment of quietness except for the sisters' chatter, then suddenly a crash was heard—the crisp sound of china breaking—followed by a frantic gasp that allowed anyone to easily guess what had happened. The two girls turned towards the same direction, where Lunamaria stood aghast staring at the broken pieces scattered at her feet.

"I'm so sorry!" the girl cried as she instantly fell onto her knees, gathering the pieces of china and putting them onto her apron for the lack of a better container. She stole a quick glance at her two mistresses; Fllay seemed uninterested, but the same could not be said for Natarle—her dissatisfaction could not be clearer with the frown she put on; her shoulders heaved then fell dramatically, and Lunamaria recognised it as a heavy sigh of frustration. _'She's angry,'_ Lunamaria's heard her own panicked voice yelling inside her mind, and her hands were now working quicker than they were before, as if on a race to finish cleaning up this mess before Natarle were to say something about it. But she was too distracted by the fact that Natarle was now pacing slowly towards her that she misjudged where her hand was to land, and had accidentally cut her hand with one of the smaller pieces.

"Ah!" she yelped, the loudness of her cry surprising even herself, prompting her to cover her mouth with her hands, a careless movement that lost her her balance and caused her to fall onto her bottom most ungracefully. As an unfortunate result, she was now staring straight at Natarle, looking like the most foolish and untalented maid ever in Dominion Hall's history.

"Put them down," Natarle commanded, eyeing the contents on her apron. She obeyed without a moment of delay, lowering all the broken pieces onto the floor and waited with her head down for the next set of instructions. She did not dare to look up again; the first time serving tea had ended in such a disaster, and she was sure Mrs. Simmons would be very disappointed in her, but that was not even half as bad as it was now—to be reprimanded by the lady of the house herself.

"Show me your hand," Natarle said, her face stoic as she reached for Lunamaria's hand. Lunamaria was reluctant; there was blood seeping out of her hand from the small cuts by the broken china, and she did not want her mistress to see the proof of how incompetent she was, but to refuse her would also mean disrespect, which would only add to the severity of her mistake. She obediently extended her hand out for Natarle to see, and waited for the worst.

Natarle quietly examined the wounds for a bit, and what she did next had completely caught Lunamaria by surprise: she had pulled out a handkerchief from her dress pocket and started dabbing it lightly on Lunamaria's wounds. Lunamaria had forgotten to respond; she was still trying to comprehend the fact that her mistress was not condemning her, but on the contrary she was tending her wounds—such a kind gesture that a servant like her would never have dreamed of. She felt her cheeks heat up, and her heart was beating so quickly that it could jump out from her chest any moment. "Mi-Miss Natarle, I cannot-… I'll be fine… Your- your handkerchief…"

"Natarle, are you done over there yet? Come back," Fllay's impatient voice sounded in the background, reminding Lunamaria there was someone else in the room. Natarle turned around, giving the girl a quick glance to tell her to wait—Lunamaria had noticed the kind patience in Natarle's amethyst eyes when she looked at her younger sister, with a hint of a smile from the corner of her lips—and Fllay had fell back into silence, letting Natarle go back to dressing Lunamaria's wound. Lunamaria caught sight of Fllay pouting towards her direction as she waited in her seat, yet not making any further complaints, and she had a feeling that the girl was blaming her for hogging her sister's attention.

"Don't worry about it, it's just a handkerchief," Natarle said as she tied the piece of cloth around Lunamaria's palm. "But you must be careful next time; we can't have you breaking all the good china."

"Yes, Miss Natarle!"

"Just leave the tea here now. Go to Mrs. Simmons to have your hand treated properly, and ask her to send someone else to take care of the tea."

Lunamaria smiled most brightly to Natarle, her gratitude and admiration apparent in her eyes. She bent down in a polite curtsy, "Yes, Miss Natarle. Thank you."

Watching the young maid hurry away, Natarle went back to her seat and sat down, her younger sister immediately seizing the chance to snake her arms around her into a tight embrace, just like how they were before the small episode had happened.

"I thought you would have scolded her; you surprised me this time. I am certain she will soon grow quite fond of you." Fllay spoke as nonchalantly as she could manage, but she couldn't suppress that tinge of envy that flamed up when she saw her sister's kindness towards another girl around her age.

"There are standards in this house, and these standards must be kept," Natarle replied matter-of-factly; she obviously had not caught the oddity in Fllay's voice. "But the girl is new here, for that I give her leniency. Just this once though."

"That was very sweet of you," Fllay purred.

"Anyone would be anxious when placed in a new environment, especially one as intimidating as Dominion Hall. Do you remember your first day here?"

Fllay giggled. "Mm-hmm. I was so scared of Grandpapa, wasn't I?"

"Yes you were. You were hiding behind me all the time."

"Because I knew you'd protect me." Fllay let go of her sister, instead allowing herself fall sideways onto the sofa with her head landing and Natarle's lap, her chirpy voice suddenly all serious. "You're my sister, my only family left now other than Grandpapa."

It was unusual for Fllay to be so sentimental, yet Natarle found this rare confession very heart-warming, for it had been such a long time ago since her sister last shared such intimacy with her. She patted on Fllay's head gently who was curled up beside her like a pet that needed the comfort from its owner. And as if a thought had suddenly come to her, Fllay turned her face upwards, looking straight into Natarle's eyes.

"Natarle, promise me something."

"What is it?"

"Promise me that we will always be close together, that you will stay by my side, no matter what happens. Promise me you will never abandon me."

She looked at Fllay; the girl's grey-blue eyes were filled with insecurity, and it reminded Natarle of the last thing Mama had ever asked of her. Fllay and Mama; she was not going to let either of them down.

"I promise, Fllay."


	11. 15th October

**15th October**

_Natarle showed me the library today. Such a glorious place it is, I've never seen so many books in my life! She brought me here as I told her I like to read but lack the material, and I think she was rather glad when she heard me say so, as she seemed very excited to have someone share the library with her. She said I could come here whenever I wanted to, and choose any book that catches my interest. _

_But I read rather slowly, I told her, so I might not be reading as many and as often as she does. She told me not to worry; as long as there was someone who found the books useful, it would be good enough. Too many books yet too few people reading them; they sit here on the bookshelves for years, taken down once every now and then only to be dusted and replaced in their spot, and that was all. It is a great pity—_"Such a waste of knowledge" _were the exact words she said, I think. _

_Surely there must be someone who reads these books; a library with such a grand collection must have been built with a purpose (which I hope not for decoration). Well, apparently Sir Frederick had contributed much to the library, but had lost his passion for it after losing first his wife and then his favourite child, just as he had lost his passion for everything else, even his remaining family. And after him, not many people had set foot into this place again until Natarle came along. _

_No one else in the house likes to read, so she is used to having this place all to herself; she says it is her sanctuary, the place where she is away from everything she wishes to not think about—including loneliness, I feel. Such a strange thing to hide from, is it not? But who am I to judge, for I have no knowledge of the loneliness she only hints of in our conversations; she does not talk about it, but it is in her voice, and in the look of her eyes, something in them that is so different from other women of her age, and sometimes I believe that I can feel it too by just observing her—it must be a very painful loneliness, that she becomes the loneliness itself. She talks about the other two girls' lack of interest in reading so indifferently, but I can tell she yearns for someone to share her passion with. Stellar likes to listen to stories yet never reads them (and her interests are only limited to fairytales and myths, which is essentially what this library lacks most), and Fllay does not have the patience for books. So it will be me now, who shall come here and share with her the joys of reading. I believe we will very much enjoy each other's company here, and I truly hope that my presence will be at least some kind of comfort to her. _

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note<strong>

Yup, that's it. Super short chapter this time.

Merry Christmas everybody!


	12. FIVE

**FIVE**

There were often times when Natarle sat alone in the library pondering what the purpose of her life was.

It had been two years already since Mama had passed away, and yet nothing much in her life had changed, everything staying just as it was first day she left her, boring and futile, with a gaping hole of emptiness that no matter how many books she read it would not be enough to fill. It was like time had become an endless cycle, with every day more or less the same; days began to blend into weeks, weeks into months, and months into seasons. Gradually she learnt to remember the times and seasons by the people around her: when she was alone with her books it were mornings and afternoons, when Fllay was with her it were evenings and nights; Mwu meant the end of Spring, Stellar and Muruta meant autumn was not far.

But was there a point in knowing the times and seasons for a life without purpose?

She would sometimes wish quietly to herself that she could go back to that street where she lived as a child; how would her life turn out if she had never left the place? Would it be more exciting and fulfilling? Would she have met new people, instead of seeing the same faces everyday as she was now? Would Mama still be here with her, or would misfortune have claimed her anyhow?

There were never going to be answers for these questions, and she knows better than to dwell in an imaginary pastime, so she keeps them to herself, and returns back to the dull life she lives, to the one treasure she still has, and wait patiently for the time she is needed again.

o-o-o

She was heading towards the library after lunch when she heard a pair of rushed footsteps following behind her. She turned around to see Lunamaria scuttling towards her.

"Miss Natarle," the girl stopped in front of her, giving a quick curtsy, then pulled out a small piece of folded paper and handed it to her. "Miss Fllay just asked me to give you this."

She immediately knew what it meant; this was not the first time Fllay asked Lunamaria to pass messages between them when she was unavailable to tell her things in person. Natarle was glad to see Fllay finally bonding with people other than her and Grandfather, especially someone of similar age; the child was not too fond of Lunamaria when she first arrived, but had slowly warmed to her after a few weeks of seeing her during tea—she suspected it was because Fllay felt left out from the interaction between Lunamaria and her, since Lunamaria was working very hard to impress her as to make up for the incident in the small parlour. She had witnessed the change in their relationship, from dislike to understanding, and now though still master and servant, there was also some kind of friendship between them, enough for Fllay to put trust in the girl to handle the secret correspondence between them.

But these little notes were also something that Natarle dreaded seeing—the notes usually came to her when there was an engagement between them Fllay cannot keep, and thus another disappointment. She bit her lip, and opened the folded paper.

_My darling sister,_

_I'm so sorry, I know I promised we could have the afternoon together, but Grandpapa's headache had suddenly left him and now he wants to go into town for dinner! You know I can't refuse him, and I wouldn't dare tell him I'd rather spend time with you, so I suppose that means I will not be seeing you till we return. We leave now, and should be coming back straight after dinner; Grandpapa will most definitely be tired after all that travelling so I suppose we won't be staying out there for long. I will come to your room to stay over for the night, as we planned before! Wait for me!_

_With love,_

_Fllay_

Natarle couldn't resist her smile; no matter how upset or disappointed she was, Fllay's notes would always make her feel that the bond between them was unbreakable, and those few more hours apart did not matter so much anymore. She tucked the note away, and looked at the maid, "Thank you, Luna."

o-o-o

Dressed in her nightgown Natarle sat on her bed with a book in her hands, waiting for Fllay's arrival. There was no knowing when she would return, but Natarle was intent on waiting; Fllay seemed to be looking forward to sleeping over in her room, and she did not want her sister coming over just to find that she had already fallen asleep without her. But waiting alone was a tedious task, and thankfully the book she had with her was a good companion. She flipped over page after page, chapter after chapter, until she heard a soft knock on the door, and a hushed voice from the other side, "Natarle, are you still awake?"

"Fllay, is it you?"

The door slowly opened, and the red-haired girl first peeked inside, then quickly slipped herself through, closing the door behind her.

"Natarle!" She dashed towards the bed and jumped onto it, hugging her sister elatedly. "You waited for me! I was so afraid that you were going to be asleep already; I was really looking forward to this."

"Of course I was going to wait for you," Natarle said softly. "I haven't seen you all day."

"I missed you too! We would have had such a great time if we had the afternoon together, but Grandpapa insisted on taking a trip into town. It was so boring!" She complained as she fell backwards onto the bed, her hand reaching forward to twiddle with Natarle's long tresses. "How was your day?"

"There's nothing to tell, it was just the same as any other day," Natarle said in an unexcited tone, trying not to move from the itchiness caused by Fllay playing with her hair. The young girl sat herself up again, finding a new idea for entertainment right at her fingertips; her hands slid smoothly down the dark hair, curling it around her fingers and sliding it into a loose braid, not quite paying attention to what more Natarle had to say, "But I'm sure there was at least something that was entertaining in town for you, was there not?"

"Hmm, it was alright. There's nothing new in the shops, so there wasn't much to see. Dinner was quite nice though," Fllay answered back nonchalantly, the tone in her voice as uninterested as her day seemed to her; she was more fascinated with styling Natarle's hair than recounting her day, untying the perfectly braided tresses and brushing them loose, then starting to style it differently again. "I love your hair, Natarle; it's so beautiful. I envy you."

"Hmm?" Natarle made a curious noise. She has heard it before; Fllay had mentioned more than once she liked her hair, and every time she came to sleepover she would play with her hair as they talked, exactly as she was doing now, and it seemed that there would never come the day she would tire of this activity.

Fllay drew a lock of Natarle's hair into mid-air, and let the dark silk slip though her fingers. "I love how soft and smooth it is. It's perfectly straight; mine curls at the ends, and I hate it. And yours have a purple tint like Mama's; it's such a beautiful colour!"

"But your red hair is beautiful too. It's rare in Father's side of the family, isn't it? And Grandfather likes it very much."

"Yes…" Fllay answered, dragging the word on to emphasis her uncertainty, "But it's still nothing like Mama's. I've always wished it was more like Mama's and yours, it makes me feel like I'm the odd one in the family."

She might have felt that way, yet Natarle knew who in truth was the one that did not belong with the family. Fllay's ignorance had set off a prickly feeling inside her, made her nervous to even think that there may be one day when Fllay finally realises the truth. How will she take it? Will she still accept her as her sister, or will she look down on her for her illegitimacy?

"But you'll always be Mama's child," Natarle said. She could not figure if she said that to offer some sort of consolation to her sister, or to disguise her own dishonesty.

Thankfully the unease in her voice went unnoticed to Fllay. The girl leaned in and wrapped her arms around Natarle's shoulders for a tight embrace. "And you," she whispered quietly to her ear, "will always be my dearest sister."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"I do hope we'll be back before September. I really don't think Grandpapa can tolerate being away from Dominion Hall for so long, so I suppose once the three of them leave we can come back. Oh, I forgot to mention, I'll be bringing Luna with me to take care of my things."

Natarle sat on Fllay's bedside, listening to her sister explain the situation as she went through her closet picking outfits, and Lunamaria standing aside filling suitcase after suitcase the things she needed for her two-month trip. Natarle tried not to let her emotions show, but she was just too angry and frustrated, and she knew there was nothing she could do to convincingly hide that sulky face she wore.

"I'll need this dress, and… the white hat- no, the _pink_ hat, to go with it," Fllay busily pointing out for Lunamaria the items she needed, and in a moment of hesitation she turned to her sister, "Natarle, what do you think?"

Hearing herself being addressed, Natarle looked up and nodded perfunctorily, her look distracted enough to let Fllay know she hadn't given the question proper thought. Fllay moved across the room and sat beside her sister, taking her hands into her own and looked at her with the most apologetic eyes. "Oh Natarle, please don't be sad. I should've told you about it earlier, but I knew you'd be upset about it; I just thought the later you knew, the better."

Natarle appreciated Fllay's thoughtfulness, but when she knew about it would not have made much difference; the fact that she was going to be away for the summer—to accompany Grandfather during his two-month trip around the country in his effort to avoid seeing his other three grandchildren—was distressing no matter how much notice she gave her. "But I don't understand; they've been visiting every summer, which Grandfather always hides away and never comes out to see them anyway. What difference does it make in hiding in his room and leaving the estate?"

Fllay shrugged, but it was not that she did not know the reason; her shrug simply showed that after spending so much time with Grandfather she could not still fully understand what goes through his mind. "It must have been the quarrel he had with Muruta about the heritance last year; Grandpapa said he didn't even want to risk the slightest chance of seeing him. He said he should just forbid them three visiting anymore, but I know you've always enjoyed Mwu's company for the summer, so I asked him not to. And somehow he came up with this idea."

Natarle didn't know whether to be thankful or displeased at the end result. She forced out the most appreciative smile she could manage, though she knew from the sympathetic way Fllay looked back at her it was hardly convincing.

"I'll write back, I promise," Fllay said, "And you must write to me too, and tell me everything that happened while I'm away. Remember to tell me once Mwu and the others have decided on their departure dates so I can ask Grandpapa to bring us back."

"I will," Natarle assured her, her eyes reluctant yet sincere. "When are you leaving?"

"In three days," Fllay replied, and Natarle's frown only deepened at the realisation of the little time they had left. "Look on the bright side," The younger girl said cheeringly, "Mwu will be arriving within the week. You'll have a great time."

Natarle quietly wished to herself that Fllay's words would come true; it was the first time the sisters spent so long away from each other, and the fact was Natarle had never felt so terrified, so insecure, and so uncertain of something before in her life.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Surprising how it was, that although whether or not Fllay was here within the boundaries of the estate should not have too much to do with him, the effect it had on Natarle was still strong enough for Mwu to feel its influence.

At first he was not well aware of the change, only catching a small hint of it when he felt Natarle was not as excited as she used to be with his arrival. Then little by little, he began to sense it: she was always on the edge, her temper would flare up in moments he least expected it, only for her to apologise for her rashness afterwards when he had already forgotten about the matter; she would easily tire of his jokes and attempts to cheer her up, and fall into long periods of silence as if forgetting altogether of his company. Even the presence of Muruta and Stellar, who had arrived five weeks after him, wouldn't bother her anymore, whereas in the past she would have avoided being in the same room with them as much as possible. He had more than once caught her staring into blank space with a contemplative frown, sighing to herself as acceptance of another disappointment, and he knew instantly the disappointment was for another day of not seeing her little sister.

"What you need, I'd think, is some fresh air," he said to her, when he finally decided he had enough of this silence. "All this brooding won't do you any good."

Clearly the household staff could not agree more with him; a simple _"She needs to get out there"_ and Mwu already had the staff up on their feet and arranging for the perfect outdoor afternoon for them. So while they busied around preparing their afternoon tea in the garden, Mwu took her for a long walk around the estate grounds.

She had at first merely 'walked'—just as he had asked, but not quite what he had in mind—rushing off by herself as if the stroll was an arduous task he had given her, and he had to ask time after time to slow down and relax. "Are you that desperate to get away from me?" he asked, half jokingly, the other half sounding rather serious.

But she looked at him with a surprised face as though his words had reminded her of something; she sheepishly lowered her head, and mumbled softly, "No. I… I'm not trying to get away from you."

"Are you positive? Because it feels to me I'm not quite welcome here in Dominion Hall this summer. Do you miss Fllay this much that you'd rather be alone than have my company?" Mwu teased a bit, but was careful with his tone so he did not sound like criticizing her; the last thing he wanted was to get her into a mood worse than now.

One moment she was nodding her head hesitantly, then the next she was fervently shaking it, looking very confused as though she didn't know how she should be responding. She bit her lip, and Mwu made a small 'um-hmm' sound, imploring her to continue. "Yes, I miss Fllay… But I don't dislike your company. You _know_ that."

"Lovely," he replied with a smug grin, "Good to know you haven't tired of me yet." Of course he knew, he was just teasing. He also knew better than to take Natarle at her words; to understand her one needed to listen to not what she says, but what she did not say, and for her to say she did not dislike his company meant there was a very high possibility that she actually _liked_ it. He felt relieved; as an only child he understood what it felt like to be constantly left alone without a playmate, yet none the children in the Allster lineage did he feel close to enough to substitute for a sibling—except for Natarle, who had now become like a younger sister to him. It was only after her family's arrival at Dominion Hall that he began to enjoy his stays, and he would surely be disappointed if she ever did come to tire of his company.

His thoughts trailed back to a promise he made long ago, in the quietness of the evening in the small parlour room, to a weak, tired, and desperate patient. _"I would like to ask for a favour from you. It may sound to you a selfish request, but at this point of my life I suppose its appropriateness would be the least of my concerns, and in all honesty, I don't know who else to ask other than you. I need your help, Mwu; please take care of my two daughters after I have left. Particularly Natarle. She thinks she is independent, but she doesn't realise how much she fears to be left alone. This child's life has never been easy because of me, but I don't have the time I need to make mends. I'm worried about what her life would become. Look after her, guide her; she may not agree or even recognise that she needs your help, but it will do her good."_

He now understood where his Aunt Elizabeth's worries came from; with her gone, Fllay was the only remaining person Natarle would regard as family. Fllay was the comfort zone she needed in a world where only strangers remained—he knew, from the comparison of her behaviour towards Fllay and Aunt Elizabeth and to him, that he was merely a close companion, yet much far from being true family. She had made her sister the sole focus in her life, refusing to let anyone or anything become familiar enough to distract her, to break this one last blood bond she has. It was a constant sense of longing so intense that was almost a fault, and Mwu knew he must do something to change this perception of hers. But where to start with this stubborn child?

He bent down and looked at her straight in the eye—when she tried to turn away shyly he held the back of her head to force her look back at him. "Now do you trust me when I tell you even without Fllay we can have a good time together?"

He couldn't make out her expression; she seemed to be cross and embarrassed, yet there was also a bit of expectancy in that suppressed smile. She shrugged a little, but Mwu refused to take this as an answer, "So?"

"Yes, I suppose," she mumbled so quietly that he had almost missed her reply.

He smiled brightly and straightened himself as though he had just been relieved of a heavy burden on his back. "It's going to be a great summer, I promise."

o-o-o

The rest of the stroll was much less hurried. When they finally got back to the garden, their afternoon tea was already laid out on the table inside the gazebo, with Erica standing on the side awaiting their arrival.

"Thank you, Mrs. Simmons, for arranging this," Natarle said at she sat down.

"My pleasure, Miss Natarle. I hope your walk was an enjoyable one," Erica answered while stealing a quick glance at Mwu; he caught her look and grinned ever so lightly, an implication that the plan had went well.

Suddenly a rustling sound was heard from behind them. Both Mwu and Natarle turned around expecting to see a hare or some other small animal come out of the bushes, but Erica said surely, "It must be Miss Stellar; she came out to play in the garden while you two were taking your walk."

As soon as the words came out, the young blonde emerged from the rose bushes, moving on her knees with a bunch of flowers in her arms and leaves entangled in her clothes and hair. She stood up and smiled at her flowers, unaware of the three people who were looking at her.

"Hello, Stellar," Mwu called out to her.

Like an obedient pup the young child raised her head and ran to the source of the sound. "Mwu?" She answered to his call with a tilt of her head, suggesting she was expecting more than just a greeting from him.

"How's your day been?"

"Good."

"You've got some very nice flowers."

"Yes."

"What will you being doing with them?"

"Nothing."

It was an awkward conversation, Mwu noted, as were all conversations with Stellar usually were. Mwu had never gotten the chance to know her well, and had constantly found himself at a loss when interacting with her. The child always hung closely around Muruta, and never spoke unless absolutely necessary; when she did, it was like just now, only in single words or fractured sentences. She was a curious child: she seemed always interested in the things around her—animals, plants, architecture, scenery—but never the people. She was difficult to understand, but Mwu never stopped trying.

"Stellar, would you like to join us for tea?"

"Yes," she nodded, "but Stellar can't."

Her answer caught Mwu by surprise. "Why not?"

Stellar turned her head towards Natarle. "Because Muruta told Stellar not to go anywhere near her," the child explained matter-of-factly, unaware how the directness of her answer weighed on the very person she was referring to. But Natarle did not seem offended, and had looked back at Stellar with an expression that showed she had long accepted this.

Stellar stared at the young woman wordlessly, and stood like that for a rather long while; she knew Mwu was saying something to her, but she wasn't hearing—all she was interested in was the dark-haired girl that Muruta kept warning her about. Then all of a sudden she jolted, her eyes full of shock as if she had suddenly remembered something she ought to have been mindful of. Turning herself around swiftly, she headed back towards the manor.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note<strong>

I've decided to upload one more chapter today just because it's Christmas even, which means it's Natarle's birthday! Happy Birthday to Natarle :P and Merry Christmas again everyone!


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